


Take Care of My Baby

by rocknrolljunkie989



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1950s, Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:31:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 94,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocknrolljunkie989/pseuds/rocknrolljunkie989
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the mid-50's. Dean Winchester is the best damn racer in all of California and the most notorious name on the block. He likes to think he's got his whole life put together just how he wants it.</p><p>That is, until the Novaks come to town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Dean Winchester likes to say that there are a few things in life that he's 100% certain of.

One: He's the best damn racer in the great state of California - hell, maybe in the whole United States.

Two: He's only got one baby in his life, and that's his 1932 Deuce Coupe, with her shiny black paint job and an engine that roars like a goddamn lioness protecting her cubs. But there ain't nothing wrong with fooling with all the pretty ladies in town.

Three: He does not, under any circumstances fall in love, and he definitely isn't the praying type. As far as he's concerned, he's the only person who keeps himself alive.

Four: Nobody fucks with his little brother unless they don't have plans to see the light of day again.

One would think that at the age of twenty-two, Dean Winchester has every thing sorted out. Looking at him, people see his greased-up hair, his tight white t-shirt, flannel shirt, and his black leather jacket. They see his dirty Levi blue jeans with rolled-up cuffs and his biker boots. They see the cigarette and the smoke that curls from behind Dean's wicked smile. They see his amulet glinting in the headlights his Coupe, and they see the dangerous sparkle in his green eyes.

What they can't see but can feel oozing off him is his confidence. He has it in spades. You can see it in his movements and his expressions and the way he walks and talks, in the way his hands grip tight on the wheel when the needle of the speedometer crawls into dangerous territory, in the winks he gives to all the giggling girls swooning over him.

So, yes, one might say that Dean's got his whole life put together just how he likes it.

That is, until the Novaks come to town.

 

__________

The moving trucks roll in on a lazy Saturday afternoon in late August, just before the school year starts. Dean Winchester eyes the caravan from the hood of his baby, cigarette between his fingertips and his little brother, Sammy, sitting next to him. It doesn't surprise him to see that they pull into the biggest, nicest house in the most rural part of town; thing's been sold for weeks with no sight of the family, but word on the street is that some real fancy fuckers had been checking the place out for a while.

Sam nudges Dean. "Think we should go introduce ourselves?"

"You know I don't do that 'people' shit," the older Winchester mutters, flicking the butt of his cigarette into an evaporating puddle. He can see Sam giving him that _look_ from the corner of his eye, so Dean elaborates with, "Jesus, at least let 'em get settled in first, Sammy."

"Yeah, I guess."

The brothers wait on the hood of the car, curiosity taking over. Neither will admit it, but they've been as interested in the local gossip as everyone else, though Dean would never admit it. They watch as people pile out of the vehicles, one after another.

"Christ, you think they're all gonna live there?" Dean asks, his lip curled in disgust. A few people were bad enough, but this is ridiculous. He doesn't like newcomers in his neighborhood.

"I'm sure they won't be that bad."

"Yeah. That's what you said about Azazel and his family, and look at what a bunch of shits they turned out to be."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Whatever, jerk."

"Bitch."

The younger Winchester straightens up and brushes his hands on his jeans. "Well, I'm off to go pick up Jess. See you tonight at The Roadhouse?"

"You bet."

Dean punches Sam as he stalks off to Jess's house, grinning all the while. Jess is a real sweet girl, all smiles, sunshine-blonde hair, and a pretty little mouth that drops curses like a sailor. The first time she and Dean met, he hit on her, she kindly informed him that she "wasn't attracted to birdbrained hotshots, thank you very much", and Dean had known that his brother had found himself a keeper.

He sticks around for a while, watching the newcomers off in the distance, just little specks of people unpacking their things, before he gets in the Coupe and heads for the auto shop.

 

__________

Unlike Dean Winchester, Castiel Novak isn't sure of anything. He's not a man that girls throw themselves after, nor is he the confident type. He doesn't like to drive fast, and he'd prefer to stay indoors and read than to get his hands dirty. He isn't well-known for anything, and he likes to pray every night before he goes to sleep, not out of a belief in any god, but because it sets his mind at ease. When people see him, they don't see his nondescript sweaters and slacks as an enigma; all they see is a regular Joe with an exceptionally bright pair of cerulean eyes.

Castiel comes from a big family and at nineteen years old is the youngest of 6. He's got 4 older brothers - Michael, Lucius, Gabriel, and Zachariah - and one sister, Anna, who has graciously put up with the overabundance of testosterone for just over two decades. The siblings have always been close - though incredibly dysfunctional - and after their father's death, they had decided to all head to California for a change of scenery and a fresh start.

It's the concept of a fresh start that has Gabriel and Lucius knocking on his door at sunset, forcing him to hit the town with them. Gabriel, apparently, has already been chatting up a girl named Meg who told him about The Roadhouse, which is apparently the place to be. It's also the only reason why he drags himself from the middle of his book and tags along in the back of Lucius's brand new, bright red Chevy Bel Air convertible.

And as soon as they pull into the car hop diner, he regrets coming.

All eyes are trained on the three brothers in their flashy car, and if there's one thing Castiel hates, it's attention. He can see all conversations cease as curious teenagers and twenty-somethings eye them up. And while Castiel can't see him, he knows Gabriel is wearing his best shit-eating grin when he calls out, "Y'know, curiosity killed the cat!"

People seem to return to their conversations after that, startled into embarrassment by being called out by a newcomer. They still earned glances through the corner of their eyes, but nothing that they wouldn't have gotten anyway.

__________

Dean has his thumbs hooked in his pockets and is flirting with Lida Braeden when a shiny Bel Air swings into the parking lot of The Roadhouse. He knew right away that it was the new family, because the three faces in the car were ones he didn't recognize. There's a kid with shaggy hair in the front seat, a stupid grin on his face, and next to him is another guy with hair that looks like he just rolled out of bed. He doesn't catch who's in the backseat.

Lisa turns to him and whispers conspiratorially, "That's the new family who just moved in. The Novaks."

He merely nods, appraising them, when the one in the front seat cries out, "Curiosity killed the cat!" and Dean wonders if this'll be another hotshot who'll run his mouth until it gets bashed in.

All of a sudden, Meg is there, with her dark hair piled in a high ponytail and her bright red lips are parted in that dangerous smile of hers.

"C'mon, I wanna introduce you to the new kids on the block," she says in that slow, syrupy voice of hers. "I met one of 'em earlier; he's a real hip guy."

Dean doesn't protest as she nudges him forward. He just sticks his hands in the pockets of his jackets and saunters toward the car, Meg right behind him.

"Hey, Meg!" the one in the driver's seat exclaims in excitement as she walks up. "What's shakin', baby?"

She rolls her eyes and nudges Dean. "Came to introduce you to the top dog around here."

"Dean Winchester," he greets, sticking a hand out for the men to shake.

"I'm Gabriel Novak," the man grins. He nods to the man next to him, saying, "This is my brother, Lucifer-"

"Lucifer?" Dean asks, cutting Gabriel off as he reaches to take his hand.

"My real name is Lucius, but I'd rather you call me Lucifer," he says with a smirk. Dean nods, unable to help the way his lips turn up at the corners. "Our little brother, Castiel, is in the back."

Dean turns to shake Castiel's hand, too, thinking that this family's got a lot of real jacked up names, but his thoughts are frozen in their tracks by a pair of the most intense blue eyes he's ever seen. His body moves on autopilot while his mind stutters like an idling engine.

"Dean Winchester," he hears himself say.

And then - oh christ, his fucking _voice_ \- Castiel says with the tiniest of smiles, "Pleased to meet you," and Dean's a goner. He's got this gravely voice that sounds like he just got done having some real nasty sex, and it's the hottest voice Dean's ever heard. Castiel's looking at him with wide eyes, almost like he's in awe of the man before him, and Dean thinks he could melt under the intensity of the stare.

But he's Dean-goddamn-Winchester, and he's got a reputation to maintain, and he replies with, "You should be," and walks away. As he goes, he can almost feel the eyes burning holes in the back of his jacket, and he hears Meg telling the three men all about the race he's running the next day and how people are gonna be telling stories about him for years.

When he cruises around town that night, all the headlights remind him of crystal blue eyes.

_________

When Dean walks away, Castiel is left in shock. He can't believe someone could possibly be so rude, although he's never had to be the new kid in town before.

Lucius's jaw drops at the statement, spluttering about how he can't believe someone would treat his little brother that way, but Meg leans over the door and jabbers on about Dean and how he's a damn good racer, and how he's gonna be a legend one day soon. When blonde waitress walks over and introduces herself as Jo, Meg leans over and whispers to Castiel, "Don't worry about him, sugar. He just wants to make an impression," before winking and skipping away.

Castiel watches her go, thinking that he doesn't really understand people.

"So what can I get for you three?" Jo asks with a kind smile.

"Chocolate malt, largest size you got-"

"No, Gabriel."

"Fine, make that a regular. And... what's for dessert?"

"No dessert until you eat something normal first."

Gabriel turns around to give Castiel a glare. "Last I checked, you weren't my mom."

"When you get fat, don't come crying to me," is the response. Jo stifles a snicker with a cough and tries to act like nothing happened.

"Just a burger and fries, then, since killjoy over there is gonna throw a fit."

Jo nods and turns her eyes to Lucius. "What about you?"

"Same as him. Hold the milkshake, though; I'll just have a Coke."

"And for you?" Her gaze if finally turned on Castiel.

"The same for me, please."

"Alright boys, I'll have your food our for you real quick!" With one last smile, she's heading over to the next car to ask how they're doing.

While Gabriel and Lucius come up with the best ways to get into trouble in their new town, Castiel sits quietly and watches Dean Winchester interact with the group of people around him. The man is leaning against the side of a shiny black car - Castiel has no idea what the make and model is; cars really aren't his forte - with a cigarette between his full, smirking lips.

Castiel usually isn't attracted to anyone, especially not people who radiate confidence and danger like it's their job; it's just one big recipe for disaster. And yet, he can't look away. He'd be content just to watch this leather-clad god for the rest of his life.

"Hey, earth to Castiel, your food's here," Gabriel calls over the back of the seat, waving a french fry in his younger brother's face. "D'you wanna go hang out with them? We boring you, little bro?"

"No, I'm fine. Just daydreaming," he says. Ignoring Gabriel's teasing has become a part of him after spending so many years with the man.

His brothers return to their conversation, snickering incessantly about how crazy it would be to fill a girl's bag with crickets and trying to find their proper victim.

Dean is gone by the time Castiel finishes his burger. He doesn't think about what it means that he's disappointed.

When Castiel goes home, he remains annoyed that the most attractive man he's ever seen is also the most ill-mannered, and he's somehow still enamored with Dean's undeniable charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was time I tried my hand at a 50s AU. Inspired by Take Care of My Baby by Dum Dum Girls, American Graffiti, and Deuce of Spades.


	2. Two

After two weeks in town, Castiel ends up befriending three people: a dorky but well-meaning nineteen-year-old named Garth, a terrifyingly cheerful girl his age named Becky, and, believe it or not, Sam Winchester.

He met Sam at the local library on his second day in town and was surprised when the taller man asked if he could sit with him.

"I'm pretty sure you met my brother, Dean, the other night," he starts out with, then smiles and says, "He probably said something stupid, so I just wanted to apologize."

They chat for a while, not really about anything in particular. There are a few mentions of recommended reads and a little bit of small talk about how Castiel likes his new home, and then they both settle down with their respective books; Castiel with his book on sociology, Sam with his on basic law. They meet up almost every day, not sharing much more than a kind greeting and companionable silence.

Garth is a different story. Castiel was walking home from the grocery store when Garth bumped into him - literally. The kid is clumsy and awkward, and he helped Castiel pick up his bags and then walked him home, filling the silence with his own stories when he picked up on Castiel's hesitance to speak. Somehow, they end up in some of the same classes in college and ride together on the bus.

Becky, unfortunately, latches on to Castiel much closer than the other two men. Unlike Garth, she talks simply to hear her own voice, and unlike Sam, she never seems to be able to sit quietly. She has more energy than Gabriel on a sugar rush, but Castiel has never had many friends, and he's not going to blow off someone now.

And, well, he's damn glad for that when she comes flying into his kitchen one Tuesday morning before they walk to the bus stop together, babbling on about, "Dean Winchester asked me about you!"

Castiel stops pouring the milk into his cereal and looks up at her. "What?"

"Dean Winchester! Apparently he's been asking Sam a bunch of stuff about you, because he knows you two hang out at the library, but since you and I are even closer, he came and asked me what time you leave for school!" She's grinning excitedly as she says so, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feel. Castiel never told her about his silly crush on the older Winchester; Becky had somehow picked up on it herself. She never made one comment about him being gay and even seems to have herself convinced that Dean might like Castiel as well.

"Okay," he says, keeping himself calm. "What did you tell him?"

"Well, of course I told him exactly what time you left! I bet that, in a few days, he'll be rolling by here, offering to give you a ride in his baby," she says with a dreamy sigh as she lowers herself into one of the chairs. "Gee, I can't tell you how many girls would just die for a ride with him."

"What else did you tell him?" Castiel asks, trying to mask his need to know by making it appear as nothing more than innocuous curiosity.

"Oh, well I just happened to let it slide that you're a real tough catch, but worth the effort. I tried to make you sound all mysterious so that he'll get interested," Becky says, waggling her eyebrows.

Castiel merely gives her a skeptical look over his bowl of cornflakes. He honestly has a hard time believing that Dean Winchester would be interested in him as more than even a casual acquaintance, let alone the romantic interest that Becky seems to think will happen.

"Don't you give me that look, Castiel Novak," she scolds him. "Everybody knows that Dean has kissed a boy before."

"I thought that was just a rumor that a rival racer made up to make Dean look bad."

"But... well... I can just tell when people like each other! I'm really sensitive to it, I swear! And you guys are always giving each other these really meaningful looks when you think no one is looking!" Becky insists wildly, and Castiel has to shush her, because Gabriel is still home, and he doesn't want his family to hear this. He's not sure they'd take the news of his sexuality well, and the fact that he's pining away after Dean Winchester - a man they've already formed their skeptical opinions about - would not bode well for him.

"I really don't think he likes me, Becky. He was rude to me the first time I met him. And it doesn't matter that much, anyway."

"You hush! You two are perfect for each other, and I know he's gonna come a-callin' here soon," she says matter-of-factly, like there's no possible room for debate.

"Sure. And what if he comes? It'll take him one day to find out that I'm not like one of his one-night stands," Castiel points out quietly.

"Now, see, that's where I come in," she says, reaching forward to take Castiel's hands in her own. "I've got the perfect plan!"

__________

Dean's cracking open a beer when he suddenly asks, "What's that Novak kid like?"

Sam looks up from where he's doing his homework on the floor of the garage and says, "There's like, seven of them. Which one?"

"The one with the funny name."

"Dean." Sam's got one of his best bitchfaces on.

"What?"

"You only narrowed down like, two choices. I'm gonna need you to be more specific."

"Oh, you know. That weird one you always hang out with. Think his name starts with a C."

"Castiel?"

"Yeah, yeah, that one." Dean nods nonchalantly and takes a swig off his beer.

"What about him?"

"I already asked ya, Sammy, what's he like?" He throws one of his greasy shop rags at his younger brother.

"Way out of your league," Sam responds easily, throwing the towel onto one of the tables.

"Aw, shut up. You know I don't swing that way."

Sam gives him _the look_ , the one that says, 'I know you're lying to me, Dean Winchester'.

The man in question huffs in irritation and demands, "Just answer the damn question, bitch."

"Jerk." Sam rolls his eyes and closes his book. He has a feeling he won't be able to get a whole lot done with his brother pestering him. "Cas is smart, and he's got this weird sense of humor that I don't think is even humor, he's probably just legitimately clueless. He likes swing music and reading, and he goes to the same university as me. That's about all I know."

"Huh." Dean merely nods his head and looks off into space.

"Like I said, he's too good for you."

Dean glares at Sam. "I didn't say nothin' about liking him, okay?"

"Yeah? Then what do you wanna know so much about him for?"

"Jesus, can't a guy just be curious?" Dean demands, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "He's just... he's the closest one to our age. I was just wondering if he was worth hangin' out with is all." He raises his eyebrows as he finishes off the beer, a silent challenge to his younger brother.

"I've known you all eighteen years of my life, Dean. I know when you're lying." So maybe Sam does feel in the mood to challenge him.

"And I don't give a rat's ass."

"All I'm doin' is lookin' out for you."

"That's my job, Sammy, not yours."

Sam's expression softens. "Dean, c'mon. You know I'm not gonna judge you or think any different of you. You're my brother."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Don't go gettin' all soft on me," Dean grumbles as he stands up, putting a few tools back into his toolbox. "I'm gonna go make dinner. What d'you want?"

"Not hamburgers again."

"Tacos it is."

Dean leaves Sam groaning in dismay on the garage floor before he gets something thrown at him.

_________

Castiel can see him when he's walking down the road to catch the bus the following day. Dean Winchester in his leather jacket, leaning against the side of his baby, looking too attractive for his own good. Castiel, however, ignores him by walking straight ahead, not even casting a glance toward the other man.

"Hey, you need a ride to school?" Dean asks as Castiel completely bypasses him. The shorter man turns around and tilts his head to the side.

"Do I know you?"

Dean laughs, obviously not used to people being unaware of the prestige he's build up around him. "Uh, yeah. I'm Dean Winchester. We met the other day at The Roadhouse?"

"Oh, yes, Dean," Castiel nods, "I think I remember you."

"You thi-" the man cuts himself off and holds open the door to his car. "Need a ride?"

"No, I'm fine."

"I'll go real slow, I promise. I'm the best damn driver around, you'll be safer with me than with your grandma."

"No, thank you."

And with that, Castiel leaves.

__________

The next day, Dean is there again. He's rid himself of the jacket in exchange for a well-worn flannel shirt.

"Bet you got some nasty blisters walkin' all that way yesterday. You sure you don't want a ride?" Dean calls after Castiel, seeing the way he's walking uncomfortably.

The blue-eyed man stops and turns around. "They're really not as bad as they seem," he smiles, and then he's gone.

__________

Dean comes the following day wearing nothing but a black t-shirt. Cas can see the outline of the cigarette pack that he's rolled up in the sleeve.

"Think you want a ride today?" Dean asks from the front seat of the Coupe.

"I'd rather walk."

Dean almost groans in frustration. "C'mon, Castiel, don't be like that. I'm not such a bad guy."

"I've yet to see that."

Castiel keeps walking, leaving Dean gaping at him in disbelief. He hasn't been rejected so harshly since the fourth grade, and it fucking stings.

But he'll be damned if he gives up so easily.

__________

Every day for two weeks, Dean Winchester waits at the side of the road for Castiel without fail.

Every day, he asks, "Change your mind?"

Every day, Castiel answers, "No."

__________

"Sure is raining today! Sure you don't need a lift?"

Castiel shakes his umbrella just a little and says, "I'll be just fine, thank you."

__________

When Castiel runs down the road full-tilt, Dean stops him to offer, "Runnin' a little late today. Sure you don't want a ride? I'll get you to school on time."

Castiel merely keeps running. "I can make it!"

__________

"Wow, it's pretty hot! Think today you want a ride? It'll keep you nice and cool."

"No, thank you. It's actually quite beautiful."

__________

"Gee, you sure have a whole lot books today! Think it'd be more comfortable if you got a ride."

"Exercise is good for you."

__________

It reaches the end of three weeks when Dean finally loses hope. He decides that if Castiel doesn't want a ride today, then there's no point in him wasting gas just to get shot down.

He opens the door up when Castiel comes walking up, and he says, "C'mon, Castiel. I dunno what I did so wrong to make you hate me so much. But I promise I won't make you uncomfortable or anything; I just wanna help you out. It's gotta be real lame walkin' all that way to the bus stop every day."

"I really don't mind the walk," the other man says, although today there's a look of what appears to be regret in his eyes.

He waits until Castiel is farther up the road before he slams his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. He lets his head drop onto them. There went his last chance. He doesn't know how long he stays like that, but it's long enough for him to keep hold the disappointment at bay.

When he looks up, something is different than the usual view of the man with the prettiest blue eyes walking away from him. Today, a bright orange Chevy street rod crawls up to a stop in front of Castiel, and a few guys get out, surrounding Cas.

"Shit shit shit," Dean mutters as he starts up his car. Nobody messes with Castiel unless they want to get their face rearranged.

He floors it, but he still doesn't get there until one of the assholes has knocked Castiel's books all over the dirt road, and that just makes him even angrier. As soon as Dean makes it up to them, he leaps out of his car and cuts off one of the slimy motherfuckers before he can get to Cas.

"Well, well, well," the asshole sneers in the most nasally, obnoxious voice that Dean's ever heard, "This little fairy's got a friend, huh?"

"You might wanna shut your goddamn trap before you make me even angrier," Dean utters, his voice low and deadly. He turns to Castiel, who's picking his books up off the ground. "Cas, get in the car." The man looks up at him with wide-eyes, trying frantically to collect all of his papers. "I'll get your books. Just get in the car."

The motherfucker in front of Dean gags, which brings his attention back to the men in the street rod. "You two screwin' around together or what?"

In a second, Dean's got the man's white t-shirt in an iron-tight grip. His two lackeys shuffle backward in surprise. "I told you to shut your goddamn mouth, or didn't ya hear me?"

"Oh, I heard you loud and clear. I just don't take orders from no faggots," he grins. "You crazy or somethin', kid? Takin' on three guys yourself?"

"The fuck's your name?" Dean demands, ignoring the man's question.

"Alastair."

"What're you doin' in my town, Alastair?"

"Comin' to race the legendary Dean Winchester. Didn't know he let fairies hang 'round here, though."

"I'm gonna tell you something, Alastair, and I want you to open up them ears real good, you hear me?" he hisses. "You here for Dean Winchester? You're fuckin' lookin' at him. And I don't let no-good shits like you walk around my town, beatin' on anyone you see. Got it?"

Alastair merely lets out a dark laugh in reply. One of his friends mutters, "Cool it, Alastair."

"I asked you a question, motherfucker. You wanna give me an answer?"

"Oh, I won't bother anyone else," he responds. "Even your little boyfriend over there."

That's when the punches start flying. Alastair's got a broken nose on the first go, but he still comes up swinging. Blood is pouring down his face, and he's staggering like crazy, but he keeps coming at Dean. He gets in a few good punches to Dean's stomach, but, as he promised, Dean does a real good job redecorating Alastair's face.

The two lackeys end up dragging a bruised and battered Alastair out from the middle of the fight. They throw him in the backseat of the street rod and speed off, but not before the motherfucker calls out, "I'll see you at the race!"

Dean flips them off as they go, feeling anger swirling around inside of him. As soon as he remembers Castiel, however, sitting in his baby, some of that hate dissipates, and he bends down to collect the papers and books that litter the road.

"They're a little dusty," Dean says as he hands the books to Castiel and climbs into the front seat. "Sorry you had to see that."

"Don't be sorry. I should be thanking you," Castiel murmurs, his voice barely audible as he brushes the dirt from his things. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Yes I did. I ain't just gonna let some hotshot come into town thinkin' he can pick on you!" he exclaims, louder than he intended to. He can see the man beside him visibly flinch, so he brings his voice down. "It ain't right. Anyway, if you don't wanna ride with me, I won't be mad. Probably scared the shit outta you, anyway."

"No, that's okay. I, uh... I think I'll take that ride now," the man says. "If you don't mind." When Dean glances over, Castiel's blushing, and he's staring down at his own hands like they're the most interesting things in the world.

Dean can't help the grin that spreads out over his face. "Hot damn. Never thought this day would come." He starts up his baby and pulls back out onto the road.

The ride is quiet; he kinda figured it would be. Sam had mentioned that Castiel was a shy one. But it's kinda nice not to have someone jabbering on about something dumb all the time.

That's why he nearly jumps out of his skin when a gentle hand brushes against his knuckles.

"You're hurt," Castiel points out quietly. Dean looks down at his knuckles. Sure enough, they're raw and bleeding.

"Ain't nothin' too bad. I'll be okay," he shrugs, and it's true. Nothing feels broken, and a little bit of split skin isn't anything he can't handle.

Castiel doesn't say anything else for the rest of the ride. He doesn't protest when Dean cruises by the bus stop and heads straight for the university instead. Whenever Dean lets his eyes stray over, the man is staring out the window, but he looks content, so Dean doesn't say anything, either.

He pulls into the parking lot of the university and glances over at Cas, who's suddenly digging around in the knapsack he almost always has with him. When he sees Dean looking, he says, "Get out of the car."

"What?"

The man just motions to the door and steps out of the car himself. Dean has no choice but to follow suit. He watches carefully when the shorter man walks to his side of the car and grabs his hand.

"What are you doing?" he questions curiously.

Castiel glances up at him with those pretty blue eyes and says, "I'm not letting you walk around with bloody knuckles because of me."

Then, he trickles some water on the cuts on Dean's hands. Winchester stares at him, enraptured by his ever movement and the precision with which Castiel washes out his cuts and bandages him up with some cloth he pulled out of his bag. He's kinda sad when the man finishes and drops his hand.

"See you around," Castiel smiles, and then he's gone.

Dean can't move for a while, and when he drives home, he's grinning like an idiot.

___________

The next day, Dean parks off to the side of the road and waits for the younger man to walk down the road. He has no expectations that Castiel will even want to ride with him after seeing him fight, but Dean is never one to turn down opportunity.

He leans against the back of the car with his hands in his pockets and watches as Castiel walks down the road toward him, arms full of books. He offers Dean a quiet smile and says absolutely nothing, but he climbs into the passenger seat of Dean's baby.

"Finally gonna let me give you a ride?" Dean grins. He can't help showing how excited he is.

Castiel gives him a muted smile and shrugs. "Guess you've earned it."

Through the rumble of the engine and the biggest grin he's sported in a long time, he murmurs, "Well, hot damn."


	3. Three

"So I hear you like swing music."

Castiel looks up, head tilted and brow furrowed in confusion, and _fuck_ , that look gets Dean every goddamn time. His hair is ruffled from the wind blowing through the open windows, and Dean just wants to pull over the car and kiss Castiel, who just happens to be saying, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

It's a few days after the motherfucker from out of town gave Castiel shit. You can bet Dean whooped his ass in the race Alastair had come requesting. The man had left town licking his wounds, and nobody had fucked with the younger man since.

The two men are currently on their way back from the university - taking the long way, of course - because Dean had decided that he couldn't handle only seeing Castiel once a day. And there was something about having the man next to him in his car that made him happier than he'd like to admit.

"So what about swing music?"

"Shit, I dunno," Dean admits, "I was just tryin' to make conversation."

Castiel smiles at him. "I know it's not your cup of tea, Mr. Rock n' Roll."

"Hey, rock n' roll ain't so bad," he protests. "There's some real great stuff there. Real good for driving fast." He can see Castiel wrinkle his nose, so he says, "I know, I know. You don't like driving fast."

"And I respect you for following the speed limit when I'm with you," Castiel points out, smiling.

"Hey Cas, I got a-"

"Wait, stop."

Dean pauses. "Okay?"

"You've called me that a couple of times now," he says. "Cas."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Nickname. It just kinda fits you, y'know?" Dean stumbles as he tries to put words to the emotion he wants to convey. "Castiel is all formal. Like... like what teachers call you or what your family calls you. But you're not all formal with me. So, Cas."

"Cas," the man echoes, like he's feeling the way the word rolls off his tongue. "I like it."

Dean didn't know he was worried until relief floods over him. "Good."

"Now, what were you asking?"

"I, uh... you wanna come to The Roadhouse with me tonight? Everybody's probably going cruisin' afterward, and my front seat is awful lonely without you in it." Dean thinks that he's probably never said anything cornier than that, but Castiel's face lights up like a freakin' Christmas tree.

"I think that sounds good," he says through a smile.

"I can't guarantee that I won't go fast."

"That's okay, I think I can handle it."

Dean thinks his face might split in two.

__________

Castiel fiddles with his shirt in the mirror as he waits for the clock to strike seven. As he does, Gabriel leans in the doorway of the bathroom, a sly grin on his face.

"Got a hot date?" he asks cheekily.

The younger man turns to give him an uninterested look. "No."

"Yeah? Then what're you so worried about your outfit for?"

"We're new here. It doesn't hurt to make a good impression."

"Oh, don't hand me that. We've been to new towns before, and you didn't give a rat's ass about what impression you made," the man says. He grins and pokes Cas in the hip. "So spill. Who's the babe?"

"I told you I'm not going on a date," Castiel protests.

"Is it Becky?" Gabriel wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Please tell me it's not Becky."

"It's not Becky."

"Thank God," he sighs in relief. "But if you're not goin' on a date, then what are you doing?"

"I'm just going to hang out with some friends," Castiel says. He finally decides that no amount of smoothing will get the wrinkles out of his sweater, so he gives it up.

"What friends are those?" Gabriel asks. When Castiel doesn't respond, he plops down on the counter and pokes his brother's side again. "C'mon little bro, you can tell me anything. I won't let Zach or Michael know."

Castiel hesitates. "Dean Winchester."

"Oooh, look at you, going after the hottest dog in town," his brother coos, nudging Cas. It earns him a glare in response. "Hey, I'm just playin', I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you." Castiel glances at the clock and sees that it's close enough to seven, so he grabs his trench coat

"Aw, c'mon, don't wear your creepy trench coat," Gabriel groans as though it's a personal offense to him.

"He happens to like my creepy trench coat." And Dean did: he'd told Cas so on the way home from the university a few days prior.

Castiel is smiling as he walks to the front door, but as he nears the living room, he hears it. The unmistakable rumble of a '32 Coupe. Dean's baby. And it's attracting his family like flies.

"What in the hell is the ungodly racket?" Zachariah is in the kitchen, and Castiel can hear him shuffling around, getting ready to come investigate. He briefly catches a glimpse of Gabriel giving him a wink before going into the kitchen, likely trying to distract their older brother.

Castiel doesn't wait for any further queue. He flies out the door faster than he's ever moved before, throwing open the door to the Coupe and jumping inside, crying, "Goddammit, Dean, _drive!_ "

Dean guns it, which is probably the worst decision, because Castiel can see the curtains being pulled back, and he knows that the car sounds like a feral animal. But he can't deny that the whole thing has given him a heart-pounding rush of excitement that he hasn't felt in a long, long time. He's terrified, but yet he feels _alive_.

When they make it down the road, Dean turns to Castiel with a dopey smile on his face. "I think that's the first time I've ever heard you swear."

"You must be rubbing off on me, Dean Winchester," Castiel smiles back. He feels like he's on cloud nine; there's something about Dean that makes the whole world disappear. He'd usually be too concerned about the trouble waiting for him at home to enjoy himself, but Dean's presence burns away all of that worry.

"Now I wouldn't wanna do that," Dean says, "I like you just the way you are."

Castiel doesn't get a chance to respond, because they're pulling into The Roadhouse. Dean pulls into his usual place, and before he even gets the car in park, he's already got an audience demanding his attention.

"Winchester, my man!" comes a sudden drawl.

Dean leans over to the window and punches the arm of whoever is talking. "Heya asshole, how's it goin'? Haven't seen you around lately?"

"Oh, you know. Just makin' my way around." The man leans over to peer into the car at Castiel. He has on a cut-off flannel shirt, and his hair is slicked into a ducktail. "Ain't good manners not to introduce me to your friend."

Dean huffs in embarrassment, but he leans back so that the man can extend a hand to Castiel. "Ash, this is Castiel, the new kid in town. Cas, this is Ash. He dicks around at the garage sometimes, but he likes to claim that he works here."

"Hey, asshole, I do work here!"

"Doing what?"

Ash falters, his mouth open as he searches for words and shrugs. "Oh, y'know. Whatever."

"Ash! You botherin' these boys?" This voice is one Castiel recognizes. It's the waitress, Jo.

"I ain't botherin' nobody!" he protests. Then, he leans down to address Dean. "You drivin' around tonight?"

"You know it."

Ash claps the side of the car. "Looks like I'll be seein' you again tonight," he says. With a quick salute, he leaves with, "Doctor Badass out."

Castiel can see Jo rolling her eyes as she pushes Ash. Then, she's leaning into the window with a grin. "Hey, Dean. Castiel. What can I get you boys tonight?"

"Bacon cheeseburger. What 'bout you, Cas?"

"I'll... have the same."

Dean's grin spreads from ear to ear. "A man after my own heart," he laughs. "And, uh, how about two Cokes?"

"Pie?"

"Not tonight, Jo."

The girl looks shocked. "Dean Winchester willingly turns down pie? Has Hell frozen over?"

"Can it, Jo. I'm watchin' my figure," he jokes, patting his stomach.

"The day Dean Winchester watches his figure is the first day of the apocalypse," she laughs. "I'll get your meal out to you soon. And if you change your mind about that pie, you let me know."

"Will do."

As Jo heads off, Dean turns around with a roll of his eyes, but he doesn't get very far when something catches his eye. Suddenly, his grin widens, and he flips someone off through the windshield. Castiel is momentarily confused, but then Sam, all gangly limbs and stupid grins, is running up to the car.

"Hey Dean, hey Cas!" he exclaims. "Jess wants to meet Cas. Jess! C'mere!"

The pretty blonde haired girl that Castiel has seen on a few occasions turns to see who's calling, and when she sees it's Sam, her whole expression brightens. She breaks off the conversation she's having with another girl and hurries over.

"Jess, I wanna introduce you to Cas," he says. Jess's face seems to light up even further. She peeks down into the car and waves to him.

"It's real nice to meet you, Cas! Sam has told me about you," she says with a smile. Then, she extends her hand. Castiel takes it gently.

"Good things, I hope," he smiles.

This pulls a laugh out of Jess. "Only good things, I promise." They drop their hands, and she smacks Dean lightly on the shoulder. "You better treat him right, Dean Winchester."

Dean throws his hands up in defense, a smile on his face. "Hey, I'm behavin' myself!"

"You better be," she says with playfully narrowed eyes. Then, she breaks out into a smile and tugs Sam away.

"Women," Dean says with a roll of his eyes, and Castiel laughs.

__________

Dean is worried about what Cas will think about cruising. It's something that nearly everyone does; when the weekend comes, you can bet your money that everyone with a car will fill up their gas tank and drive around town. There's no real rhyme or reason behind it, other than the fact that it gives them all something to do.

But Dean worries because Castiel isn't a fan of driving in general, and sure, he rides with Dean to and from the university, but that's not the same. Out on the streets, Dean has a reputation to live up to. He's Dean-goddamn-Winchester. His name is known all through the state, and it's even gotten as far as a few others. This is when people challenge him, when he teases his skills, when he listens to music too damn loud and flirts with all of the girls he sees.

Somehow, things work out.

When they finish their meal, Dean and nearly half the cars at The Roadhouse hit the road for the night. Castiel is the one who turns on the music: rock n' roll, because he knows Dean likes it. And the guy doesn't stop smiling, even when the speedometer creeps above the speed limit. Maybe it's just because they're too absorbed in their conversations for Cas to notice.

"So you're telling me that you _willingly_ talk to Becky Rosen?" Dean asks, wrinkling his nose. Becky is easily the most annoying girl he's ever met. If Cas likes her, fine. He just hopes they never have to spend time in the same room together.

"I will admit that she's a bit much to handle, but she's a nice girl," Cas says, his eyes flickering from Dean to the road.

"Man, she used to have this huge crush on Sam. It was the weirdest thing." He shakes his head, trying not to think back to those times.

"How so?"

"I guess she had this whole journal dedicated to how much she loved him. And she used to feel him up whenever she saw him. I don't know if it was hilarious or terrifying." Dean can still remember the time when they'd gotten a knock at the door in the dead of night, and Sam had opened it only to have his chest caressed by Becky.

"She has.. mentioned that a few times, yes," Cas says with a faint smile, and it makes Dean's heart skip beat. He wants desperately to see the full smile, to find what makes Castiel the happiest.

"So you know how, uh, _interesting_ she is."

Castiel gives Dean a knowing smile, but he says, "You should be thankful for Becky."

He furrows his eyebrows. "Why is that?"

"She has a lot of advice when it comes to... making acquaintances."

"What d'you mean?"

"It was by her suggestion that I not accept a ride to the university with you right away," Castiel reveals with an almost conspiratorial smile.

"No way!" Dean exclaims. He had never really given Castiel's motives a thought; all he's learned is that the man was worth the wait.

"She said that you would appreciate the challenge." And Cas is giving him this soft smile, like he's never been happier for a piece of advice in his life.

"Man, I was goin' crazy trying to figure out why you wouldn't give me the time of day," Dean laughs.

"So it worked." When Dean looks over, Cas is giving him a knowing smile.

"Yeah, I guess it did." Dean realizes that he hasn't smiled this much in a long, long time. Not since he was a kid.

Dean has his window open, and when he pulls up to a stoplight, they're startled by the sudden, "Hey, Winchester!" that suddenly pierces the night. 

He whips around to find Meg leaning out the window to give him that sly, red-lipped grin of hers. "Whaddya want, Meg?"

"Some new guy's out there lookin' for you. Thinks he's some real hot shit. Better go show him who's territory this is," she purrs with a wink. Then, she's gone. Dean doesn't catch who's driving, but they must have put the pedal to the medal, because pretty soon all that's left of them are the tail lights in the distance.

When Dean pulls out, he looks at Cas. "I'm not racin' anyone tonight," he says reassuringly. Castiel doesn't look particularly worried, but he just wants to make sure.

"I thought Dean Winchester never turned down a race."

"Yeah, well," he shrugs. "Racing can wait."

He doesn't miss the grin that Castiel tries to suppress.

"Guess you're not so predictable after all," the man says.

"Predictable? Who said I was predictable?" Dean wrinkles his nose.

"Well, I just heard things. Rumors." Castiel shrugs. He shifts in his seat, and it moves him a little closer to Dean.

"What kind of rumors?"

"Well, I heard you only like pretty girls, and that you always say yes to a race. I heard you don't try to court anyone, you only let people pine after you, and you only spend your time with Sam." Castiel counts each reason off on his fingers as he says them.

"Huh. Didn't know people talked about me so much," he laughs.

"Oh, Dean. Everybody's talking about you."

The way Cas smiles at him makes a shiver of happiness run down Dean's spine. He knows Cas catches it, but he tries to talk his way out of it with, "It'd have been a shame if you'd listened to them."

"Good thing I don't listen to rumors."

"Good thing I don't give up too easy, too," Dean grins. And that brings a smile out of Cas.

Music plays, keeping the car from being immersed in silence, but they don't need conversation to make themselves comfortable. They merely enjoy each other's presence, counting all the blessings that brought the two of them together.

Every so often, a car pulls up to Dean's baby, and the man has a conversation with whoever decides to yell to him through an open window. Usually it's someone informing him of the new guy in town, the one who wants to race Dean, but sometimes it's a friend, and Dean shoots the shit with them for a few minutes. Once it's Sam and Jess, who drive off giving Cas and Dean a thumbs up, and another time it's Ash and Jo, who whistle and croon at the men in the other car. They both earn the response of a laugh and a middle finger from Dean.

"Seems like you've got a lot of friends here," Cas points out after a while. He doesn't sound jealous or upset, just observant.

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugs. "I kinda made a name for myself. Lot of people are into that."

"You are something of a celebrity," the blue-eyed man nods.

"Pff, nah. I'm nothin' special."

"You don't give yourself enough credit."

Dean purses his lips and gives Castiel his best disbelieving expression. "I just race cars. That ain't nothin' special." And the look he gets in response is astounding. Dean has never really understood how to read into people's eyes, but he can see Cas's, and the man is looking at him like he sees Dean as a gift sent from the heavens. Like he can't understand how Dean doesn't love himself. Like he's bound and determined to make Dean understand.

"You don't see yourself, Dean."

"There's nothin' to see."

Castiel opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a car pulls up next to Dean's, horns blaring. It's a car full of girls, and Dean can pick Bela, Ruby, and Pamela out of the bunch of them. Pamela is the one hanging out the window, her curly brown hair blowing wildly in the wind. "You got room for one more in there, Dean?"

"sorry, Pam. Got no extra room tonight," Dean calls back.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

Pamela pouts, but she starts to retreat back into the car. "If ya change your mind, you just let me know!" He catches her wink before she waves to Bela. There's a chorus of goodbyes, and then Bela hits the gas and makes a left turn.

"You have all of California's female population at your beck and call," Cas laughs as he watches the girls go.

Dean snorts. "And I don't want a single one of 'em." He feels his chest warm at the soft smile and red cheeks that the comment pulls from Cas. He barely sees it due to how dark it's getting, but it pleases him.

Because it's getting so dark, the abundance of cars on the road begins to thin out. People are heading home or to a party or back to The Roadhouse for one last milkshake. Dean realizes that the night is coming to an end, and soon he'll have to bring Cas back home.

With just a bit of prior thought, he says, "There's this place out in the woods. I don't think anyone knows about it but me and Sammy. D'you... d'you maybe wanna go out there with me for a little bit?"

"I would love to."

And so fifteen minutes later, Dean pulls off to the side of the road in an alcove that few people know exists. He and Sam had found it when they were kids, and it has been their go-to spot since then. Dean grins at Cas when they park, then gets out of the car, and hurries to the passenger side to hold the door open for Cas.

"Such a gentleman," he comments with a grin as he joins Dean in the darkness. "We're not gonna get lost, are we?"

"Nope. I could make my way through here with my eyes closed."

"I hope so. It sure is dark enough to make you think your eyes are closed."

"You should probable hold onto me, though. Just to make sure you don't get lost."

"I'm starting to think that this is just a ploy to get me to hold your hand," Castiel says, but Dean can hear the smile in his voice, and Cas's hand easily finds its way into Dean's.

It's slow going for a little while, but their eyes eventually adjust to the darkness. When they do, they make far better time getting to the little clearing that Dean is leading them to. It's right next to a river, and there's a huge, flat rock at the water's edge, which is the reason why it had become such a popular hideout for the Winchester boys.

"So. Here we are," Dean announces with a grand sweep of his arm. But as he does it, he almost feels embarrassment. "I, uh... nobody else knows about this place, and I thought I'd show it to you."

"It's lovely, Dean," Cas says with a grin on his face like he's just found the Garden of Eden.

Then it's just the two of them there, just Dean and Cas, less than a foot away from each other. The sky is bright above them, and the crickets are chirping away, but they don't seem to register that. Dean feels a bit shy, because finally, _finally_ , he's got Cas alone, with nobody around to judge them, and he's getting lost in the oceans that are Cas's deep blue eyes. He reaches up, places a hand on the other man's cheek, and pulls him in closer.

When their lips meet, Dean thinks he's found the heaven he doesn't believe in. Cas is hesitant and careful, as though he's just learning how to kiss, and for all Dean knows, he is. He lets his mouth meld with Cas's, one thumb tracing circles on the man's cheekbone while the other hand rests on Cas's hip to bring them closer together.

Dean pulls back after a few moments, partially for air and partially to see Castiel's wet lips and half-lidded eyes.

"Shit, I probably shouldn't have done that," he whispers suddenly, attempting to pull away. Maybe he had been interpreting Cas's message wrong, or maybe he hadn't, but there are too many dangers with this and-

One of Castiel's hands shoots up to grab Dean's shirt and pull him closer. "Don't be stupid, Dean."

And then they're kissing again.


	4. Four

Castiel is reluctant to go home.

He manages to keep it off his mind while he sits with Dean at the edge of the water, while they share kisses and hesitant caresses. He doesn't think of it, much to his surprise, until Dean sighs heavily and says, "Think I gotta take you home, Cas."

"Okay," he whispers reluctantly, though he doesn't untangle himself from Dean's embrace.

"Wish this never had to end," the man murmurs, dropping his forehead against Cas's shoulder. Cas reaches up and places a comforting hand on the back of his neck without realizing it.

"We'll come out here again," he says softly, and it's not a question.

Dean groans at that and lifts his head, though he makes sure Cas's hand stays where it is. "That's something we gotta talk about, Cas."

"Hmm?"

"If people know, they'll..." Dean trails off, and Cas can feel the tightening of his jaw more than he can see it. "They'll hurt you, Cas. And I can't let anybody hurt you."

"Then no one has to know."

"Wish it didn't have to be like this. I fuckin' hate hiding things," Dean complains. He tightens his grip around Castiel's body. "Wish I could show you off to everybody and kiss you and let everyone know you're mine." Then, he pauses. "You are mine, right?"

Castiel huffs in amusement, bringing his hand up to tangle in Dean's hair. "Of course, Dean."

"Good." He pulls Castiel into a gentle, brief kiss. "I'll treat you so good, Cas, I promise. I won't ever let anyone hurt you."

Cas says nothing; he can't, really, because he doesn't know what to say. He just places a soft kiss on the top of Dean's head.

"It's late, Dean," he finally points out. It earns him a dejected huff, but they finally pull apart, and Dean leads them back to where he left the Coupe.

To say he starts to feel the effects of his nerves on the way home is something of an understatement. Sure, he starts to feel it, but it hits him like a train.

"Hey," Dean murmurs when he starts to notice Castiel's shifting. "It'll be okay."

"I hope so."

"Hell, Cas, you're an adult. What's the worst they can do, yell at you? Just tell them to fuck themselves."

Castiel shoots Dean a wide-eyed look. "I can't do that, Dean."

"Yeah? Why not?"

"I just... can't."

"Don't tell me you've never gotten in trouble before," Dean says incredulously. When Cas chooses not to answer him and instead looks out the window, his question is answered. "Seriously? You've never done anything wrong?"

"You say that as though it's impossible."

"I guess it's not impossible, but... shit, Cas, are you the second Jesus?"

The reaction startles a chuckle out of Cas, even though he feels as though his heart is thumping into overdrive. "That's very unlikely."

"Well I don't know how else you can go nineteen years without getting into trouble."

"My family... is different. My mother died after I was born, and my father immersed himself in his business to keep his mind off of it. I grew up under the care of my brothers, and I always felt as though I owed them my good behavior for taking our mother away," Castiel admits. He turns his face from Dean's concerned eyes, choosing instead to watch as he twists his fingers. He's never really told anyone that before, but the words slip out uninhibited, like he doesn't have a filter with Dean around.

"Woah."

"What?"

"That's... intense, man. It's not your fault, what happened to your mom," Dean tells him with infinite care in his voice.

"Try telling that to everyone else," Cas says softly. "Mother wasn't there because I was."

"Aw, Cas, don't say that," Dean murmurs with earnest sadness. "That ain't true. They can't blame you for somethin' like that." He reaches over and fumbles one of the blue eyed man's hands into his own.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Don't - don't you apologize. Let me tell you somethin', okay?" Dean squeezes Cas's hand. "You're great, Cas, just a real fine guy. You're smart, and you, you got the looks to top it off, too. And it sure as hell ain't your fault, what happened to your mom."

Castiel can feel warmth radiate through his chest at the sincerity of Dean's words. There have only been two people to speak to him in that way, but nobody outside of family. "Thank you," he says, his voice quiet.

"Just tellin' it like it is."

The rest of the ride is quiet, with Dean rubbing calming circles into Cas's hand. It's nice, Cas thinks, and he's kind of sad that the whole thing is about to come to an end.

As they approach his road, Cas's heart starts to beat so hard that he's pretty sure Dean will be able to feel its pulse. He almost misses it when Dean ask him, "You want me to drop you off at your house, or do you wanna walk back?"

"At my house is fine," he says quietly, because now it doesn't really matter. His family already knows that Dean picked him up, because he's sure that Gabriel couldn't have held them off forever. Perhaps Dean showing up will help the man save face in front of Cas's family. If anything, it'll save him a long walk.

Dean parks in front of Cas's house. The lights still shine in the living room, so they've waited up for him.

"I'm sorry for gettin' you in trouble, Cas," Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Please don't apologize. I had a wonderful time tonight," Cas says with a soft smile.

"Yeah?"

Castiel nods, then ducks his head in shy embarrassment. It's one of the most adorable things Dean has ever seen, and he can't help but tip the man's chin back up and press a gentle, brief kiss to his lips. When they pull apart, Dean takes a moment to simply admire Castiel's eyes, still so blue, even in the dark.

"If anything goes wrong, you just give me a call, and I'll come get you. 'Kay?"

Cas nods again. "Thank you. Goodnight, Dean."

"'Night, Cas."

The man ducks out of the car before he can think better of it and tell Dean to drive him off into the night. Rather, he hurries into the house.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" is the first thing he hears. It's Michael, self-proclaimed head of the family, sitting on the couch. Across from him in the armchair is Zachariah, and both of them are staring at Castiel with disdain.

"Uh," Castiel clears his throat, "No."

"It's one-thirty in the morning, Castiel."

"Okay."

"Okay? This is not _okay_ , Castiel," Zachariah informs him, wearing that smile that thinly veils just how angry he is.

Michael folds his hands in his lap, nodding. "This _Dean Winchester_ ," he says the name as though it's a sin just to think it, "is dangerous. He has a bad reputation, Castiel. He's a racer, he smokes cigarettes, and he is going to do nothing but corrupt you."

"Dean isn't a bad person-"

"Do you see? He's already started to infect you, Castiel. Don't think we don't know about this boy. He's even rumored to be a..." here, Michael drops his voice, curls his lip, and hisses, " _homosexual_."

Castiel can feel his insides burning with indignation. He keeps his face devoid of the emotion, but there is no way he can let a slight like that slip under his radar. Not when it hits so close to home, both for himself and for Dean.

"Those are schoolyard rumors, Michael. I thought you better than this," he says, his voice low and controlled.

"Excuse me?" Michael stands up, a look of anger marring his face. "You're in no position to talk back to your elders."

"I'm merely stating a fact, Michael. Dean is not a bad person. He has a kind heart, and he's more worthy of my friendship than many other people in this town."

"He's a corrosive influence, Castiel, and I will not have you speaking to him!"

"I'm an adult; you can't prevent me from befriending him," Castiel states defiantly, his voice raised ever so slightly.

Michael steps forward until he's towering above Castiel, just a few steps apart. "As long as I pay for the roof above your head, you are to follow my rules. Do you understand?"

He says nothing in response; rather, Cas just stares down at the floorboards between them. He wants desperately to tell Michael off, to stand up for himself... but he can't. He knows he's the child of the family, and he can't bring himself to defy his elders, even though his insides are curling with anger.

"I said, do you understand?"

"Yes, Michael."

"Good. You are to come straight home after school, and you will not be leaving the house on the weekends. Not until you rid this boy from your life."

"Yes, Michael."

With nothing more to say about the matter, Castiel retreats to his bedroom.

__________

Dean is pissed on his way home. He doesn't realize it until he pulls into the driveway and reaches for a cigarette only to find that the pack has been emptied by his distracted fingers. Sure, he smokes in every mood, but chain smoking is something that doesn't happen until he reaches the point where his hands either need to be occupied by a cancer stick or by clocking someone.

Sam's still up when he gets inside - actually, it looks like he just dragged himself out of bed, which he probably did. He asks, "How did it go?"

"Great, Sammy. Went great," Dean sighs, flopping onto the couch.

"But...?" Sam prompts. He takes a seat across from his brother. It's a testament to how frustrated Dean is that he doesn't comment on Sam's tendency to "gossip like an old lady".

"But his family's a bunch of _dicks._ "

"Yeah? What happened?"

Dean shrugs. "Ah, nothin'. I was stupid and showed up at his house to pick him up, and his family's gonna be pissed."

"He's nineteen. Not a whole lot they can do about it."

"Yeah, but..." Dean sighs and rubs his face with his hands, frustrated. "He's still the 'baby' of the family. I guess they don't let him get away with a whole lot."

"Ah."

"It's just... it's fuckin' dumb, y'know? That he's over there takin' the heat for some stupid shit that I did. He doesn't deserve that." Dean shakes his head and lets it drop against the arm of the couch. "Kid thinks his family hates him, and they treat him like he ain't nothin'."

"That's no good," Sam murmurs, but there's a hint of a smile in his voice. Dean might not be great with picking up subtle cues, but he hears that one loud and clear.

"The fuck are you smilin' 'bout, Sammy?"

"Ah, it's nothin'," he huffs, amused. "Just, here's the big, bad Dean Winchester, having _emotions_ and caring about someone."

"You bitch when I don't tell you anything, and then you make fun of me when I do," Dean points out, but he's smiling, too.

"Don't go getting all upset about it. I'm just sayin'," the younger man laughs. "It's just, Cas must be real important to you if you're caring about him that much. Usually you'd think it's funny that someone's family's so uptight about them."

"Yeah..." Dean trails off. A soft smile plays at his lips, and he can't deny that the blue-eyed man has thoroughly captivated him. Dean doesn't feel the need to prove that he's tough in front of Cas like he does in front of the rest of the world. He doesn't need to be rude, and he doesn't need to show off. He never thought the day would come.

Sam startles him back into the real world with, "Hey, but there's something else I wanna talk to you about, too."

"Shoot."

"Me and Jess..." Sam trails off, adjusting in his seat like he always does when he's about to unload something important. "We're talking about moving in together."

"No shit?" Dean grins, sitting up a little on the couch.

"Yeah, yeah. Hell, we've been going steady for almost two years now."

"Man. Hard to think it's been that long," Dean murmurs. He still remembers Sam coming home from high school, his eyes moony as he brought up the girl he met in his advanced placement government class, how she had the prettiest smile and was even nice to Sam.

"I know, man."

"Well, congratulations!" he says with a face-splitting smile. "You got a place in mind?"

"Yeah, there's... well, y'know that apartment building that we always pass on the way to the university? They've got some places there that are real cheap, and it's not too far away from home."

"That's... I'm real happy for you, Sammy," Dean smiles.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You'll be okay without me here, right?" Sam asks, and his smile starts to fade. "I mean, I'll still come see you all the time, and I'll call you every day, and-"

"Sammy, calm down. I'll be fine. You just go live your life, okay? And don't you worry about me," Dean says.

"I know, but I'll do it anyway."

"I'm twenty-two, man, I think I'll be okay."

Sam just shrugs, looking down at the leg of the couch with a sheepish expression on his face. "It might not be for a while, anyway. We gotta convince her parents to let her come stay with me out of wedlock."

Dean rolls his eyes. "You might need some luck with that one."

"Yeah, but it'll be worth it."

"Man," the older Winchester says, shaking his head. "You're growin' up on me, Sammy."

"Aw, shut up," he laughs, and Dean joins him. After a moment, Sam gets up and whacks Dean's boot. "Go to bed, Dean. You got work in the mornin', and I don't wanna have to hear you bitch about how your back hurts in the morning."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll go in a minute."

"You better. G'night, Dean."

"'Night, Sammy."

Dean lays there for a few moments, just staring a the ceiling. He's always known that the day would come when Sam would leave the house, but now that it's upon him, it feels... weird. He doesn't want Sam to go out of his own selfish desire to not be alone. Sam's been there with him for eighteen years, and he doesn't know what life will be like without his stupidly tall presence hanging around. But he won't say anything; Sam's got a life to live, and Dean knows better than to assume that they'd be living together forever.

He drags himself to his bedroom before he passes out, an unfamiliar emotion sitting heavily in his chest.


	5. Five

Per Michael's ridiculous request, Castiel spends his Saturday at home. To Michael's intense irritation, Castiel spends his Saturday confined in his bedroom and buried in a novel while he generally ignores the rest of the world.

Anna brings him his meals and eats with him in his bedroom, something that Cas greatly appreciates.

"It's not right, what he's doing," she tells him with pursed lips. "We didn't come here to have Michael play God and dictate our lives. We came here to be a family."

Castiel shrugs. "This is his idea of family."

Anna doesn't say anything to that, but Castiel knows she agrees. She's just hesitant to say so.

Gabriel also takes a shine to coming to bother him when he's got nothing better to do, which, in Gabriel's case, is often. At least, until night falls, and he goes out with Lucius to engage in some new prank that they've formulated.

All in all, it's a pretty slow day until Becky shows up to visit him. Castiel is somewhat surprised that Michael let her come in, although he probably wanted to enforce his demand that Castiel make 'good' friends.

She runs into the room exclaiming, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh," over and over, bouncing as she practically bursts from excitement. She plops down on the bed next to Cas, trying to restrain herself by placing her hands in her lap, but it's obvious that she's still bursting with happiness. Thankfully, Becky has enough common sense to wait until the door is closed and Castiel's record player is creating some background noise before she elaborates.

"I heard you were cruising with Dean Winchester last night!" she grins excitedly. Castiel shushes her. In a stage whisper, she continues with, "Is that true?"

Cas nods sheepishly. "Yeah."

Becky practically squeals with happiness, earning another shush from her friend. "I can't believe it, Castiel! Gee, you didn't tell me you two were at that point already!"

"I guess I've just been hanging out with him too much."

"That is perfectly, 100% okay. But you owe me details!"

So Castiel expounds the story. "I played hard to get like you suggested. After a few weeks, some racers drifted into town looking for Dean and gave me a hard time, and he... convinced them to leave."

"Oooh, protecting you! How romantic!"

Cas ducks his head, hiding his blush. "He gave me a ride to school that day, and I felt he had earned it."

"So what about the cruising? 'Cause it's, like, an _honor_ to go cruising with Dean."

"He asked me one day on the way home from the university, and I agreed."

"Well, then why are you sitting at home! Go hang out with him, silly!" she grins, playfully punching his arm.

"That's the thing," Castiel mumbles. "Dean picked me up at home, and Michael grounded me when he figured out that I was associating with someone that he doesn't approve of."

"Castiel!" Becky cries, her face looking like a child's when they find out that Santa isn't real. "You're nineteen years old! You can't let your brother tell what to do! This is a one-time chance; you can't just pass it up!"

"I know, but I can't disobey Michael."

Becky's shoulders slump; if there's one thing that Becky is, it's expressive. She huffs out a dejected breath but appears deep in thought.

"I've got it!" she exclaims after a moment, jumping up from the edge of Cas's bed. "You wait here! I'll take care of this for you!"

She pecks Cas on the cheek before she runs from the room in a blur. Castiel is almost kind of hesitant about what she's planning.

__________

Dean and Sam are both sitting at the kitchen table, sketching and studying respectively. Dean has an unlit cigarette dangling forgotten between his lips, and Sam is worrying the eraser from his pencil as he reads. It takes several knocks at the front door before they're even partially startled from their focus.

"You got it," Dean mumbles, his gaze not moving from his drawing.

"What?! I've had to get it the last four times!"

"Respect your elders. Go get the door, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam mutters, but he stands anyway, dramatically shoving himself away from the table. He heads toward the door, checking through the peephole before he answers it. What he sees, however, is a surprise. He hisses, "Dean. Dean!"

"Whaddya want?"

The younger Winchester hurries back into the kitchen as quietly as he can. "It's Becky!"

"What?" Dean asks, still confused.

"Dean, Becky is at the door. Becky Rosen is standing outside our door; please please _please_ don't make me answer it," Sam insists. Dean almost thinks that the wild look of terror in his brother's eyes was funny, but he doesn't dare show it.

"Well if she's at the door, you better go answer it." As if to back up Dean's words, there's another rapid knock. Dean motions to the door dramatically.

"Please Dean," Sam pleads.

"You realize this is why I call you a bitch, right?"

The younger man groans dramatically, but nevertheless, he goes back to the front door. When he opens it, he does so with barely enough room to look through.

"What do you want, Becky?"

"I need to talk to Dean," she announces confidently.

Sam opens the door wider, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Dean?" Then, he stands aside and lets her in. "Y-yeah, he's in the kitchen."

"Thank you, Sam." And without even one pass at him, Becky continues into the kitchen. Once there, she plops down in the chair that the younger Winchester had previously been sitting in and stares at Dean.

He raises an eyebrow and looks up at her. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to talk about Cas," she states.

"Figures," he mutters, returning to his drawing. It's some sketches of a renovation he's going to give one of the cars at the garage. "What, you gonna tell me to stay away from him or somethin'?"

"Oh, don't be so full of yourself, Dean. I'm really happy for the two of you, but there's a problem."

"Which is...?"

Becky leans forward in excitement, saying, "Cas got grounded for hanging out with you, and he's too scared to say anything to Michael. So..." She drags out the word as if she's trying to prolong Dean's interest.

"So, what?"

"So, you need to figure out for yourself what to do!" she exclaims. "Gee, I thought you'd have been able to put it together by now."

Dean rolls his eyes and stands up in annoyance, opting to dig around in the fridge for a beer instead of continuing the conversation. The thing is, he's not skilled in relationships. One night stands, and he's a pro, but actual, honest-to-god relationships? He's out of his comfort zone. And with a man?

He grabs a beer and holds it out to Becky. "Want one?"

"Oh, no. I'm not 21, I can't drink," she says, wrinkling her nose.

With another roll of his eyes, Dean pops open the beer and sits down. "Look, Becky. I appreciate that you're helping us out. I do. But ya gotta understand..." he pauses for a moment, trying to find the way he wants to word his statement. "I know you like to gossip, but you can't tell anyone 'bout us, okay?"

Becky's eyes furrow, but then her jaw drops as she understands the full implications of what he's saying. Dean thinks that he face is basically a mirror of all of her emotions. She shakes her head furiously, "Oh, no, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it! I would never, ever tell anyone! I swear on my life!"

Dean is pretty sure he can capitalize on the fact that she's intimidated by him if he plays his cards right. He leans across the table, eyes narrowed, and utters, "I'll remember that, Becky."

She gapes at him for a moment before she jumps up from the chair. "Okay, well, I'll be leaving now!" And then she's gone, the door slamming on her way. Sam wanders in when she leaves, looking amused.

"Becky Rosen giving you relationship advice?" he asks with his signature 'ha-ha-something-embarrassing-happened-to-Dean' expression. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Can it, bitch, unless you want me to call her back here and tell her you're crushin' on her."

Sam wrinkles his nose. "Ugh. No thanks."

"'S what I thought," Dean grins as he stands up and heads out of the room. "Now get back to your homework."

"Where are you going?"

"I got some stuff to do."

__________

It's past midnight when Castiel hears an incessant clicking sound at his window, like something is hitting the glass. For a moment, he curses the june bugs that have a tendency to throw themselves at the glass in a vain attempt to reach the light source inside his room. He rolls over and buries himself deeper under his blankets to try to block out the noise.

It's a few moments before it occurs to him that, one: there's no light on in his room that the june bugs would want, and two: june bugs generally don't stick around this late in the fall.

The blood runs cold in his veins as he contemplates all of the grotesque possibilities that could be lurking in wait with naught but a wall of glass to protect him: murderers, homophobes, monsters... to his sleep-addled mind, anything seems possible.

He's always told himself that in a situation such as this, he wouldn't be the hero. He's read enough novels to know that's a bad idea. But, he reasons, his family is just one bloodcurdling scream away.

Castiel divests himself from all but one his welcoming blankets, which he wraps around his shoulders, and heads cautiously to the window, making sure to stay to the side of it so that he can peep out and not be seen.

But what he sees is Dean Winchester, drawing back his arm to chuck another something at his window. He steps in front of it just in time to have that something plunk against the glass. Dean sees that Cas is there and winces, though he still offers a wave. Cas's heart skips a beat, and he wastes no time in throwing open the window.

"Dean! What are you doing here?" he demands in a loud whisper. "What if someone sees you!"

"I heard you got grounded, and I wanted to come make sure you were doin' okay," Dean says somewhat sheepishly.

"Dean Winchester, you are an idiot. A wonderful, wonderful idiot."

The man grins. He reaches up and grabs Cas's hand, pulling the man down until their lips meet, and even then, it's just barely. The thing about Cas's house is that it's raised up above the ground to make room for a spacious basement, but it's built at the edge of a hill, raising the back of the first floor up higher than the front.

"You have one minute to get in here," Castiel growls, their eyes locked. "And you better be quiet, because if my family hears you, they'll kill the both of us."

Dean nods breathlessly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." With that, he hooks an arm around the windowsill and begins to drag himself up. He requires very little assistance from Cas, choosing instead to show off his physical prowess. The younger man, however, helps Dean through the final leg of his journey by wrapping an arm around Dean's torso and guiding him to sit on the windowsill so that he can swing his legs around and inside. It's the easiest way to get him inside without making much noise.

Once Dean is in, Cas closes the window. When he turns around, the taller man is just looking at him with a soft smile.

"Damn," Dean murmurs with a laugh of something similar to disbelief. Castiel vaguely becomes aware of the fact that he's wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. He's still cocooned in a blanket, and he's pretty sure that his hair is pointing wildly in a thousand different directions. But he forgets all of that for a moment, because Dean is looking at him like he's blessed just to be in Castiel's bedroom, seeing him like this.

"Hi," Cas says for a lack of anything else to say.

"Hi," Dean echoes, smile widening. "You're cute, y'know that?"

Castiel blushes furiously at the statement, ducking his head. "Please."

"No, you are!" he exclaims, which earns him a shush from Cas. With his voice lowered, he walks over to the other man. "I don't know how I got so lucky."

"You have a habit of leaving me speechless," Cas smiles softly. He crawls back into his bed and pats the spot next to him. Dean kicks off his boots and removes his leather jacket before he joins the other man.

"I don't cuddle," Dean informs him as he wraps an arm around Castiel, dragging the smaller man over him. Cas rolls onto his side and traps Dean beneath his arm while he rests his head on the man's chest. He likes that he can feel Dean's heartbeat and each rise and fall of his body as he breathes.

"Your family is kind of dumb," Dean informs him quietly, breaking the silence. The other man huffs in amusement.

"They really aren't all terrible. It's mainly Michael and Zachariah who seem to think that they've got divine right to rule over all of us." He rolls his eyes, though Dean can't see it.

"Yeah, well. They think they're hot shit, and I don't like it."

"No one likes it."

Dean tips Cas's chin up and kisses him softly. Cas drinks in the feel of it; before Dean, he's never kissed anyone, and he regrets waiting so long for it. Maybe it's just because of Dean's skilled lips, but the whole action fills him with warmth and just general happiness. He likes the way Dean brings one hand up to touch Castiel's jaw. He likes the way they seem to fit together, even though this goes against every social doctrine that he's ever been taught. But most of all, he likes that it's _Dean Winchester_ \- perfect, beautiful, dangerous, masculine _Dean_ \- that's kissing him like his very existence depends upon this action.

And Dean, for all of the girls - and the small handful of guys, though he doesn't talk about it - that he's kissed, there's something about Castiel that makes him _different_. There's no pressure between them, no promise of sex later, no burning shame, and no rush.

When they break for air, Dean is smiling so much that it's hard for him to get his breath back.

"I just think you should know," Castiel starts off, sounding nervous and a little out of breath himself, "that I'm not going to sleep with you. Yet."

The older man can't help it; he chokes on the laugh that he tries to smother. "That's okay, Cas. Whenever you're ready."

"Why are you laughing?" he asks with a tilt of his head. Dean likes that, he thinks, he likes it a lot. That naivety and confusion, the way Cas's brow furrows and his lips part slightly.

"You're just real blunt, is all."

"Oh. My apologies."

"Don't be sorry. I like it." He taps the side of Cas's face endearingly and kisses him again.

They lie there together for a while, Cas absently stroking a hand through Dean's hair, when Dean turns to him.

"D'you wanna move in with me?"

Cas is startled from his motions. "What?"

"Move in with me. Move out of here. Do you want to?"

"... You don't think that's moving awfully fast?"

"Ah, hell, I don't know when it's, when it's the right time to ask. I've never done this shit before. I just thought, since you're an adult, and Sam's talking about moving in with Jess..." he trails off, scrubbing at his face in embarrassment. "Y'know what? Nevermind. Forget I asked."

Cas furrows his brow. "No, Dean. I would like to move in with you."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"Woah. This is... this is great," Dean grins excitedly. "I won't make you share a room with me or anything. My old bedroom is open, and you can have that. I don't want you feel like you're forced to sleep with me or whatever."

"I appreciate that, Dean," he smiles.

"We can move your stuff out whenever you want. Just lemme know, and I'll be here."

Castiel makes to answer, but he's overcome by a yawn instead. It's probably a ridiculous hour of the morning, and it's taking his toll on him.

"You should sleep, Cas."

And though he wants to argue, Castiel merely nods instead, nuzzling into the warmth of Dean's chest. His last thought before he allows himself to drift into oblivion is how much better it feels to have someone sleeping right next to him.

Dean doesn't sleep. He just holds Cas in his arms and watches the moonlight dance across the man's body. It's the first time he's ever done this, the first time he's ever lingered for longer than a few minutes.

When the sky turns from black to gray, Dean disentangles himself as gently as possible from Castiel's embrace. With a silence acquired by years of juvenile delinquency, he pulls his boots and jacket back on and exits through the window. There's no place he'd rather be than in that bed, with the rest of the world oblivious to the two of them. But for now, he has a life to get back to, and he can't jeopardize Castiel by letting the Novak family know he stayed the night.

Before he goes, he takes one last look into the room. Castiel looks peaceful wrapped up in more blankets than Dean can count. His room is quaint and just a little bit messy, but it's the kind of mess where Cas can probably find everything he needs. Boxes are still unopened and stacked against the wall; hell, it seems like all Cas has unpacked are some of his clothes, his records, and some stacks of books. It seems so typical of Cas that Dean can't help but smile.

And then he leaves. Dean has never really been one for poetry, yet he can't help but think that maybe the rising sun is a prophecy of things to come.


	6. Six

It's Monday morning and Dean is dropping Castiel off at his house when Cas peeks his head into the door and says, "Be here tomorrow at nine. Feel free to park in front of the house. I'm moving out," in that grave tone of his before he closes the door and walks up to his front door.

And so Dean is there at nine o'clock the next morning, right on the dot. Instead of his baby, he's driving one of Bobby's pickup trucks, since he figures that's better for hauling things around. He doesn't stop to ponder what it means that he's even on time and that he's up this early and not working. He might have one of those _emotional revelations_ , and he's too sober for that shit.

Dean isn't exactly sure what he's supposed to do when he gets out of the truck. He takes a moment to smooth his hands down on his jeans, to curse the spot of grease that he hadn't noticed when he put them on, and to stare at the front door with intensity. Dean Winchester has had his way with more women than he can count, but not once has he properly courted anyone. He has never come knocking on the door with a bouquet of flowers or whatever the hell people brought on dates, and he's sure as hell never helped a secret male lover move into his home before.

"Don't be a pansy, Winchester," he mutters to himself as he finally musters up the courage to start moving toward the house. "All you gotta do is knock."

And so he does. Three quick raps, just like he does when he bothers Bobby in his office at the garage, and then Cas is there, looking a little bit wild-eyed and frantic. His expression, however, softens as soon as he sees that it's Dean.

"Uh, hey, Cas," he says with a quick wave. Castiel grins and drags Dean into the house with no warning, and once the door is closed, their left in a warm embrace.

"My family has left for their respective jobs, but Gabriel is supposed to be returning home at noon," Cas says, sounding tense and worried. He's looking all around the house as if he's trying to take stock of everything in it. Dean grabs the man's shoulders and coaxes Cas to look at him.

"Calm down, Cas. This is all gonna be okay." He hopes that he's being a grounding presence. Castiel is nodding at him, and some of the stiffness of his shoulders is easing. "We'll be outta here real soon. If you still want to."

"Of course I want to, Dean," he sighs. Dean can't resist pulling him to his chest.

"Gonna make everything okay for you, Cas. Promise," he murmurs into the man's hair.

When they finally pull apart, Castiel's demeanor has brightened considerably. He's even wearing a smile.

"I packed everything last night. We only have to pack it into the car," he tells Dean.

"Truck."

"What?"

"I... don't have my car. I brought Bobby's truck," Dean elaborates.

Cas tilts his head slightly. "Bobby?"

"My boss. Basically my dad," he shrugs. "He let me borrow it today."

"Oh. Oh, good. That'll do nicely," Castiel says with a smile. He still looks a little out of it, but Dean doesn't blame him.

Without saying another word, Cas takes Dean's hand and leads him into his bedroom. Everything inside of it is packed up, though there really wasn't much to pack anyway. The fact that everything is done already really speeds up the process of leaving. Dean hauls the heavy boxes out the door and insists that Cas take all of the lighter ones.

Castiel seems to return to himself the more they pack. Dean had worried the previous night that perhaps Cas would be upset while they packed, as this was the first time in all of his nineteen years that he'd be leaving his family behind. But as they carry box after box out to the truck with the early morning sunlight shining on Cas and through the wide-open windows. Dean captures some of the moments in his mind. Cas sitting on the edge of a bare bed, glancing through the copy of a book he hadn't found until the previous night with a look of intense concentration in his eye. Cas with the sunlight shining down around him like he's an angel descended from heaven with holy purpose. Cas sneaking little touches as they choose which box is heaviest. Cas surprising Dean by taking pictures, and Dean wrestling the camera back to take some of Cas.

Dean doesn't realize he's doing it, saving these memories. He doesn't think about how he's never bothered to savor those little quirks about anyone else before. It just seems to come naturally. And it's nice.

The packing doesn't take very long at all, possibly because it's not technically _packing_ ; it's just loading things in the back of Bobby's truck and fooling around. Only an hour has passed when Cas checks the clock.

"Wow. I was under the impression that I had a lot more possessions than that," Castiel laughs as they inspect the back of the truck. Everything fits in the back with not even the slightest bit of overflow into the cab of the pickup. "I thought it would take much longer."

"That's just 'cause you got a strong guy like me to help you out," Dean teases. The other man leans into him, and it's nice, to show that affection out in public even if no one is around to see them.

"I should write a note for everyone," Cas states quietly. "Would you like to come in and have something to eat while I do?"'

"Sure."

Dean just winds up silently sipping a Coke while Cas sits across from him, scrawling some words in a notebook. He fills a few pages before Dean realizes that he's writing a different note for everyone.

Dean watches, not reading the words that Cas writes, but just the way he writes them. How Cas will pause for a moment and look up into space, as if the dust motes floating in the air hold the words that he wants to say. And then when he finds his inspiration, he returns to translate the thoughts onto the paper.

He wonders what it is about Cas that turns him into a fuckin' poet. Sam would never let him live it down if he finds out.

A few minutes later, Castiel puts the pen back into a mug on top of the refrigerator and says, "I'll be back in a moment," before disappearing into the depths of his soon-to-be former home. Dean can hear him entering and leaving several rooms, and then he's back in the kitchen, taping a note to the refrigerator. He turns around and leans against the counter.

"Ready?" Dean asks. All he gets is a nod in return. "You need a minute or anything?"

The other man pushes himself up. "No. I'm not particularly attached to this house."

"Guess that's true," Dean shrugs. He stands up and offers his arm to Cas. "Ready to go?"

Cas's lip quirks up at the corner, and he slides his hand into Dean's arm. "How charming."

"I do my best."

__________

When Dean pulls into his driveway and turns off the truck, both men stay in the cab for a few moments. The ride had been pleasant, and Cas doesn't appear to be upset, yet Dean can't help but wonder what's going on in his mind.

"So how about a grand tour?" he proposes.

"I would like that very much."

They keep a respectable distance between them on the way into the house. Dean lives in the view of far more people, and he knows that exhibiting any sort of physical contact can spell out danger for the both of them.

As soon as the door is shut, however, Dean places a hand on the small of Cas's back and keeps it there as he shows him from room to room, starting with the kitchen and ending with what is now Castiel's room.

"I said I wouldn't force you into anything, and I meant it," Dean tells him as Cas looks around. He leans against the doorway, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Used to be my old room."

"Where do you sleep now?" Cas asks him as he looks up from the windowsill that he had wandered to.

"Master bedroom. Took it over after my dad died." Dean looks down at where he's scuffing his boot into the floor. It's not a topic he likes to breach, no matter how many times Sam has tried to get him to talk about it

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Dean shrugs. "That's life. But, uh, you wanna start bringing in your stuff?"

"Sure."

The head back out to the truck to find Sam looking in the back of it with a confused look on his face.

"Hey, Sammy. What're you doin' home so early?" Dean asks.

"My teacher was sick," he replies, almost absently. "Dean, what's going on?"

"Oh, uh... guess I forgot to mention it, but Cas is gonna move in with us," he says sheepishly. He had been so wrapped up in his own worries about Cas that he hadn't taken a moment out of his day to mention it to his brother. A wave of guilt washes over him.

"It's cool. Nice to have you livin' with us, Cas." Sam pulls Castiel into one of his ridiculous hugs - ridiculous only because he's so tall and too compassionate for his body.

"It's nice to be here."

"Wanna give us a hand carryin' this stuff in?" Dean asks his brother.

With the three of them working together, moving all of the boxes into the house doesn't take long at all. It does, however, leave Cas's new room in quite a state of disarray.

Cas and Dean stand in the doorway, just looking at the stacks of boxes.

"Quite the mess," Dean nods, stating the blatantly obvious.

Cas nods as well. There's a look of trepidation on his face, almost like he doesn't want to even begin the process of unpacking so soon. They both continue to stand there. Both men are wondering at the possibility of unpacking the boxes using just the sheer willpower of their stares alone. Needless to say, they get no unpacking done until Sam wanders up and peeks in the room.

"Wow. Weird seeing that room with stuff in it again," he says with a laugh. "Hey, Dean. I gotta ask you somethin'. If you're not too busy."

"No, I'm not busy." Dean pushes himself off of the wall and glances at Cas. "I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

He gets a warm smile in return, one that seems to be filled with an adoration that Sam has seen in Jess's eyes. "Take all the time you need."

It's the smile Dean gives Cas that really comes as a surprise. In all of the years that Sam has known Dean, he has never seen his brother look that fondly at anyone, the only exception being the pictures of their mother before she passed away. And even then, there are so many different emotions now. There's no hurt in Dean's eyes, no longing for something that can never be. Because Cas is here, a tangible presence living under the same roof. Maybe that's why Sam can almost see the awe radiating from his older brother.

The moment ends when Dean breaks eye contact and follows Sam into the kitchen. They both lean against their respective counters.

"So, whattya need?" the older asks with his usual confidence.

"You're really serious about this," Sam says. It's not a question as much as it is a recognition, a confirmation between the both of them that is agreed upon in spoken word. "The Cas thing?"

Dean shuffles, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it's pretty serious. I mean, he still has his own bedroom. Just don't like him in that damn house."

"You realize that you... it's not gonna be easy, Dean. This can be real dangerous if people start to talk. And they're gonna talk."

"I know that, Sammy. God, I've thought about that a hell of a lot," he says with a humorless laugh. "Havin' him here will just be easier for us anyway."

"I don't wanna see you get hurt, Dean. Cas either."

The older Winchester scoffs. "Don't you worry yourself, Sammy. Worryin' is my job."

"I just wanna know you're gonna be okay," Sam persists. "You... you tell me not to worry, but I do. You never tell me what's on your mind. I just... want you to know that sometimes you don't need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. I can handle some of the burden, too."

Dean's face softens. He's realizing more and more with each passing day that his little brother isn't so little anymore.

"I'll be fine, Sammy. I knew full well what I was gettin' into, and I decided to do it anyway. This one's on me, and I know I can handle it." He says it with his usual self-assurance, and he truly does feel that he can handle it. He's Dean Winchester, goddammit. He lived through the death of both of his parents, he's watched his little brother get stabbed, he's raced death more times than he can count, and he can damn well handle himself in a fight. There's nothing the world can throw at him that he can't take in stride.

Sam smirks in amusement at Dean's words.

"What?" Dean demands of him, pushing him slightly as he goes to grab a beer.

"Ah, nothin'. Just never thought I'd live to see the day that Dean Winchester talks about his _feelings_ and admits to caring about someone in the span of five minutes."

The older Winchester rolls his eyes, shoving a bottle of Coke into his brother's hands. "Shut your cakehole," he gripes. He digs around in the refrigerator until he can wipe the smile off of his face. Only then does he resurface with a beer for himself and another Coke.

"Aw, is Dean embarrassed?" Sam teases as his brother heads to leave.

He pauses in the doorway to turn around and point a finger at Sam in warning, despite the fact that his thinly veiled happiness lends nothing in the way of menace. "I'm serious, Sammy. I know where you sleep."

"Oooh, I'm so scared!" he calls as Dean takes his leave.

"You will be when you wake up with a new haircut!" Dean yells back as he heads down the hall to Cas's new room.

Cas has his back turned for the moment, sorting through one of the many boxes. He lingers in the doorway for a moment, because he still can't get over the fact that Cas is actually _here_. Hell, the fact that Castiel even talks to him is a mystery, but Dean isn't about to go into particulars. His moments of doubt have long since passed. There was a time, years ago, when he hated himself for looking at men in the same way he looked at women, when he spent hours trying to figure out what was wrong with him, why he wasn't normal like everyone else, why he was something abhorred, why he would never be able to have what he wanted.

That was years ago. Now, despite the voice of society that still shouts from the depths of his mind that he's unnatural, he has come to accept it. And now he's got a goddamn angel living with him. He felt his heart leap the first time he saw Cas, and he didn't think to pursue anything until he couldn't get the damn kid off his mind. He doesn't know why Cas picked Dean, out of all people. Things like this, he thinks, just don't happen outside of fantasies, and yet it's happened.

He knocks on the door. Castiel abandons the box for a moment and turns around.

"Brought you a drink." Dean gestures up with the bottle of Coke.

"Thank you, Dean," he says as he accepts the drink.

"D'you, uh... need help with any of this," the older man asks with a wide gesture at the room.

"I don't think so. Your presence is always welcome, though," Cas smiles with a gesture at the bed. And, really, Dean could never turn him down. He ducks into the room and stretches out on one half of the bed, the side that's not littered with various items that Cas has brought.

"Thank you for offering me this," the man says with a look of genuine appreciation. "I can't express how much it means to me."

Dean shrugs nonchalantly. "Not like I don't want you here."

He doesn't miss the way Castiel's lip quirks up at the corner as he pries open the next box. Dean takes a swig of his beer and just watches. Cas, in his dark blue sweater and jeans. With his perpetual bedhead and stubble. Dean has never met anybody whose demeanor could be described as _quiet_ , but Castiel certainly shows that it's possible. Maybe Dean has simply never noticed people like that before, the kind who are content to sit at home with a book rather than showboat around town in shiny cars and leather jackets.

It's pretty damn hard not to notice Cas, though. Dean is pretty sure he'll never stop noticing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading!  
> I'll be on spring break next week, so there won't be an update. Keep your eyes peeled for the one the following Monday!


	7. Seven

If there's one thing that Dean has never been, it's domestic. Sure, he has a house, he keeps a job, he cooks dinner when he feels like it, but he's never felt that he was truly sedentary. He likes open roads and fast cars, likes to travel and keep to himself. The only reason he kept the house after his dad died was because Sam was still in high school, and he wanted to make sure his little brother got to finish growing up in one place, even if they'd moved around for most of their childhood. He still keeps a bag packed in his closet, just waiting for the day when he hits the road for good.

Maybe it's in his blood or maybe it's simply a result of his childhood, but there are moments when the itch to just take off becomes almost unbearable.

One never notices the changes they go through while they're experiencing them.

If Dean could see himself objectively, he could see just how rapidly his urge to drive away into the sunset disintegrates - how easily he slips into domesticity - with Castiel around.

Admittedly, the first few weeks starts out a little bit slow, with shy kisses exchanged as they make their way from room to room. There are lingering stares as they part for college or work respectively. Sam cracks jokes about how they're never apart for long. When Dean returns home from the garage, there are warm hugs and meals shared between the three of them. They go to The Roadhouse together, keeping a respectable amount of space between them. Dean keeps up appearances and flirts with girls, though it's half-hearted, and he dons a guilty look each time. Dean still races, and Castiel still reads, and they both continue their lives, but they've added each other, and somehow things become a little bright.

It's that slow burn... that's how it gets beneath their skin.

Dean really doesn't notice, and neither does Castiel. They slip into their routine much easier than they would have thought possible.

One evening, when the days are getting shorter and the air is cooler, while Castiel curls up with a book he's reading for one of his classes and Dean stretches out on the couch listening to the radio, he gets an idea.

"Hey, Cas. Let's go do something, just me and you," he offers as he turns to look at Castiel.

"All right," he agrees easily, closing his book. Dean's unpredictability and love of spontaneity had been a little difficult to get used to at first, but by now he's grown used to it. "What did you have in mind?"

Dean shrugs. "Nothin' in particular."

"We should have a picnic." The suggestion is out of the blue, but it's not as though Dean is going to turn down Cas.

"Sure," he says with a grin that doesn't seem to stop widening. "That sounds great."

__________

Both men decide that they want nothing to do with the actual cooking of their food, so they pick up some ridiculously unhealthy desserts at The Roadhouse and head out to the clearing by the river. They don't have to speak to agree on the decision; there's no place else that the two of them would rather spend their time.

Dean is the one who attempts not to spill their meal as they walk through the woods while Cas takes charge of the blankets. Once there, they switch tasks, leaving Cas to place the food on the side of the flat rock while Dean spreads one of their blankets on the ground for them to sit on. The two of them don't say much as they go about their tasks. Their meadow is peaceful, with nothing but the creak of the trees as they speak to one another and the occasional creature rustling about. But it's nice, being able to share that silence. With the three of them now living in the same house, it can get a little hectic.

"'S probably gonna get cold," Dean tells the other man as he throws a blanket over both of their shoulders. The action presses them together. "I still don't cuddle."

Castiel snorts in amusement and drags his milkshake over to him. "I won't tell anybody, I promise."

"Good." He smiles as he nuzzles into Cas's neck. There, he places gentle kisses and breathes in the scent that is still inherently _Castiel_ , even if he now uses the same shampoos and soaps as Dean.

"Dean," Cas says. His voice is just a little bit huskier than it was a moment before. "Food first." He places a hand on Dean's neck, but he makes no motion to pull him off.

However badly he wants to just hold Cas in his arms forever, he backs away and reaches for his pie with a laugh. "I gotta say, this is like two of my favorite things right here."

"Food and warm blankets?" There's a teasing lilt in Castiel's voice.

"Try again, doofus."

"Hm... food and rocks?"

"Ha ha, real cute." Dean rolls his eyes in amusement.

"Well, don't leave me hanging! What are your two favorite things?" the younger man questions, leaning forward in interest.

"Pie," Dean holds up the food as evidence, "and Castiel." And then he boops Cas on the nose.

"Why, I don't think I'd have ever guessed that combination." Cas kisses the other man briefly, his smile too wide for it to last much longer.

Dean learns how to eat with his left hand that night because he has his fingers intertwined with Cas's and he never wants to let go. It's not too bad, anyway, because when he makes a mess, Cas is there to feed him a bite of his own pie and top it off with a kiss.

When they finish their food, Dean clears off the stone in front of them, and then pulls his boyfriend - the word still feels a little weird on his tongue, but he'll get used to it - into his arms. It's almost a mutual agreement that they form a sort of nest on the ground at the base of the rock, balling up one of the blankets into a pillow and dragging another one over their bodies. Dean places his head on Cas's chest, just to be able to feel the gentle rise and fall of the man's body. He likes it, being that close to him and knowing that Castiel is another living, breathing human being. He also likes that Castiel's first reaction is to start running his fingers through Dean's hair gently.

"How did I get so lucky?" Dean asks rhetorically as he looks up at Cas. Even in the dark, he can see the light gleaming in the other man's eyes. He can feel that emotion coursing through him as well, that pure and unabated happiness.

"I should be the one asking that."

The words intensify that warm feeling in his chest, and Dean really can't do anything but lean up and kiss Castiel. It starts out slow and tender, with all of their unspoken feelings translating into physicality. After just a few moments, Cas puts one hand on the side of the other man's face and pulls him up closer. Dean has to throw one leg around the man's body just to be able to be comfortable. It hardly occurs to him that they're in such an intimate position until Cas gasps into the kiss.

"Dean," he whispers, sounding just a little bit broken. He throws his arms around the other man's neck and drags him down closer. And goddamn, it drives Dean crazy.

Their mouths connect again, though this time it's a deeper kiss, more passionate. Dean tries to keep a little bit of distance between him, but it feels like there's a gravitational pull bringing their bodies together; soon, they're pressed flush against each other. Dean kisses his way down to Cas's neck and almost immediately finds the spot that drives the man crazy.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," he gasps, as if it's a religious supplication. Long fingers tangle themselves in Dean's hair, and the hard lines of hips cant up against Dean's almost instinctively.

That draws a strangled groan from Dean's own throat. He drops his forehead into the exposed crook of Cas's neck because that's the only thing he can do to regain his composure.

"Damn," he laughs breathlessly. "Cas, you're gonna be the death of me."

"I could say the same thing about you, Dean Winchester. Now stop talking and kiss me."

Dean could make a joke about that; he could grin and laugh out some smart-aleck comment.

Dean could just listen to him.

He chooses the latter.

Cas parts his legs to make their position more comfortable when Dean brings their lips together again. A moment doesn't go by where their hands aren't roaming, where their mouths aren't searching, where their bodies aren't slowly rocking together. They build up a rhythm, and the older man is losing it just by how Castiel sounds beneath him. Soft gasps and broken noises go straight to the pit of his stomach, and paired with the way Cas is acting like he can't get enough...

"I'm gonna be so good to you," he murmurs against Cas's kiss-pinkened lips. "Promise."

And, because he can't find the capability of speech at this point, Cas just whispers, "Dean, _please_."

"I don't wanna go too fast for you," Dean tells him as he takes a moment to look at the man beneath him.

"If you don't hurry up, I swear I'll-"

He never gets a chance to finish his threat, because Dean is gently sucking his bottom lip, one hand slipping to the small of Cas's back. Soon, he's using that position to grind their hips together.

"So pretty, Cas. So fuckin' pretty," Dean groans. He has no idea what word are slipping from his lips; the roll of their hips and the pleasant bursts of friction eliminate any boundaries he may have had.

Cas, too, is on cloud nine. Never in his life has he been this intimate with anyone, and it's like nothing he's ever felt. His whole body feels on fire, and Dean's trails of kisses just heat him further. He's never had this overwhelming desire to just _feel_ before, to have someone kiss him and to hold someone else.

He works his hands down Dean's back and begins to drag the man's shirt over his head. They have to break their kiss to do so, but it's well worth it, as both of them end up shirtless within seconds.

Sitting back just a bit, Dean asks, "Are you sure about this? I don't wanna rush you."

"You aren't rushing me, Dean, now shut _up_ and come here!" He's almost frustrated by how carefully the other man treats him, but he knows better than to let it get to him. Dean is simply trying to ensure that Cas is comfortable with what they're doing. And while there is, admittedly, a little bit of anxiety curling in with the desire he feels, Castiel trusts Dean. They're both aware that this is Cas's first time, and it's obvious that Dean isn't going to make him uncomfortable.

"I like it when you get all pushy," Dean purrs. Castiel wraps his arms around Dean's neck and drags him in for another kiss to shut him up.

As they do, Dean trails on hand down Cas's chest, stopping when he reaches his jeans.

"That okay?"

"It'll be okay when you touch me," the younger man states, bucking his hips up just slightly.

"I think I love you," he says, fumbling with the button of Castiel's jeans. The moment he gets them open, he pulls both layers of clothing down and off.

Cas thinks that he should feel embarrassed, being almost completely naked with another man in the middle of the woods. But he's not. His head is buzzing with happiness that he's here with Dean Winchester, of all people, and that Dean is touching him and kissing him and -

"Never done this before, but I'm gonna make sure it's good for you, Cas," he says softly, placing a quick kiss on Cas's forehead. And then - _oh God_ \- Dean's mouth is on his cock, and there are very few things that feel as wonderful as this.

"Dean," is the only word that escapes his mouth, riding on a gasp of pleasure. He can see the other man's eyes flicker up at him, holding his gaze as he begins to move.

He's a little clumsy at first, not sure about the rhythm and mechanics of sucking someone off, but Dean prides himself on being a quick learner. After a few trial runs of bobbing his head and testing his limits, he figures out how much of Cas he can take at once.

Castiel seems to know instinctively that Dean doesn't want him to close his eyes or look away. For as much as he'd like to toss his head back, he keeps his eyes level with Dean's, one hand twisting into the hair at the back of Dean's head.

Dean pulls off once to command, "Don't bite your lip, baby. I wanna hear everything comin' out of your mouth."

Then he goes down on Cas again, and the younger man relinquishes his grip on his self-control. He lets his thoughts slip out of his mouth as each wave of pleasure washes over him.

"You look so pretty, Dean," he murmurs in a low, husky voice. "Love seeing your - _ah_ \- lips wrapped around me. Love - oh, don't you stop - love how your mouth feels."

His words inspire a groan from Dean, and Cas can feel it more than he hears it. After that, he can't find it in him to form words. It's just little noises of pleasure and the occasional string of curses that make their way out from behind his lips. When Dean learns how to curl his tongue while he sucks, Castiel knows he's a goner. The heat that has built up in his stomach is reaching its peak.

"Dean - Dean, I-" Castiel is cut off by his orgasm. He feels like his whole body is on fire, and his head spins. He's aware that Dean doesn't remove his mouth until he's completely finished, and he knows that he cries Dean's name out. He loses sense of things for a few moments, lost in his first orgasm with another man.

The first thing he hears when he comes back to the world of the living is Dean murmuring, "You're perfect, Cas." The man is leaning over him, amusement and lust still permeating his gaze.

"Switch places with me," Cas commands. When Dean opens his mouth to protest, the younger man simply uses the strength he has left to turn Dean around, sit him upright against the stone, and drop himself down on his lap.

"Aw, c'mon, Cas. You don't gotta do that," Dean protests. "I wanted to make you feel good, you don't gotta do anything in return."

"No, but I want to." With that, he silences Dean with a kiss while he opens Dean's belt. He gets the man's jeans pulled down just far enough to expose his cock. Cas knows that trying to reciprocate with his mouth likely isn't the best course of action, since he has no idea what to do, so he simply starts stroking Dean. As he does, he leaves a trail of kisses and bites all down Dean's throat and shoulders.

"Goddamn," Dean breathes. He wraps his arms around Castiel's waist and lets the man take control.

Cas takes pride in the soft noises and stuttered breaths that he's dragging out of Dean. He experiments with different pressures, with different speeds, and he knows he's found what Dean likes when he tightens his grip and the man trembles.

"Yeah, yeah, just like that," he whispers, his voice sounding a little unsteady. "God, Cas, you're perfect. I don't think I'm gonna..."

His voice trails off into a moan as he comes, and he drops his head down against Castiel's shoulder as rides out his orgasm. As soon as he's done, Cas wipes off his hands on his discarded shirt and then reaches up to pull Dean into another deep kiss. It's slow and languid, allowing the both of them to simply revel in post-coital bliss.

Dean is the one who pulls back, still searching for breath. "Goddamn," he says with a grin. "Gotta say, I wasn't expecting that when we came out here, but I'll take it."

"I think I'm ready to share a bed with you," is all Cas can respond with. Dean's laughter mingles with the sounds of the forest and warms the younger man's heart.

"I think that sounds like a damn good plan to me."


	8. Eight

Dean and Castiel are awakened rather gracelessly the following morning. They had returned home at the early hour of 1:30 and had planned to spend the day in bed, basking in one another's warmth. Instead, a pounding on the bedroom door just eight startles them into the land of the living.

"Piss off," Dean groans, burying his face into the muscle of Castiel's back in hopes that it'll take him away from his troubles.

"Dean this is serious! Open the door!" It's Sam's voice on the other side, and he sounds urgent.

"Nothin' is important enough to get me outta bed before noon."

" _This_ is. Now open up or I'm comin' in!"

"He won't do it," Dean mumbles against Cas's skin, tugging the blanket up over the two of them.

"Maybe you should go see what he needs," the younger man says softly, rolling around to face his lover. "Sounds important."

"No. I said we were gonna lay in bed all day, and goddammit, we'll lay in bed all day if the world ends," he says sleepily, pulling Cas closer to him. The other man can't help but think that, for a man who promised multiple times that he doesn't cuddle, he sure enjoys it.

And really, the gesture is incredibly sweet, so Castiel doesn't say anything. Perhaps Sam really is just being overdramatic. The bed is warm, and he likes the touch of Dean's skin against his own, so he settles into the sheets.

Just as the two begin to drift off to sleep again, the door comes flying open. They're startled awake and up into a sitting position. In the doorway stands Sam, dressed nicely but looking absolutely frantic.

"What the hell did you two _do_ last night?" he demands, his chest heaving. It's a testament to the severity of the situation that he first doesn't tell the two men to cover themselves - even though they're only shirtless - and that Dean doesn't respond with his usual, 'sure you wanna know?'.

"We went out to the meadow and had a picnic and fooled around," Dean says.

"Dammit, Dean," he groans running his hands through his hair. He starts pacing the room quickly. Cas grabs Dean's hand out of a need for physical comfort; if he tried to say that Sam's behavior wasn't worrying him, he'd be lying. "Dammit, you should have known."

"What's goin' on, Sammy?"

"I don't _know_ , and that's what's so frustrating!" he exclaims. As soon as he does so, however, his shoulders fall, and he shakes his head. "Look, get dressed first, then come out in the kitchen and we can talk, okay?"

"Sure thing."

As soon as Sam closes the door behind him, Dean and Cas leap up from the bed and hunt down some clothes. As Cas's are mainly still in the other bedroom, he takes some of Dean's smaller pieces.

"The hell is going on," the older man mutters to himself as he yanks on a pair of jeans. His expression has darkened considerably as opposed to what it had been just minutes before, but he's worried. Worried, because Sam, the kid who can keep a level head in even the most trying situations, is visibly upset. Worried, because Castiel has smoothed his expression into a blank mask like he does when he doesn't want to show signs of weakness. Worried, because anyone in their right mind would be worried when they carry such a secret on their shoulders each day.

"Hey," Dean says, stopping them before they walk out the door. Cas turns to look at him, his blue eyes shut off from the world. The older man holds his hand and says, "It's gonna be okay, whatever it is. I'm gonna make it okay for you."

A faint smile turns up the corners of Castiel's mouth. "Always willing to take the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"That's me," Dean says with a smile of his own.

Cas reaches up and cradles Dean's cheek. "How about you let some of us give you a hand," he murmurs. And then, knowing that Dean is going to say something, he leans forward and presses a long but chaste kiss to his lips. They linger there for a moment, their foreheads pressed together, as they relish the peace. For all they know, what Sam is about to tell them may make that kind of peace impossible to find again.

Then, they part and head off to face reality.

Sam is in the kitchen waiting for them, but he's pacing around in short jerks. Whatever is going through his mind, it's making him go into overdrive. However, when he sees that Dean and Castiel have made their way into the room, he takes a seat at the table, though he's shaking his leg almost uncontrollably.

"So. What's got you so riled up?" Dean asks, cutting straight to the point. "Gimme the whole story. Maybe that'll calm you down."

"I was in church with Jess and her family, and when we sat down, a couple people were givin' us the stink-eye. I didn't think a whole lot of it, since I didn't know most of the people, but when we were leaving, Cas's brother - Gabriel, I think it was - pulled me to the side and started telling me that there were rumors going around that someone caught you two, _y'know_ ," he makes a vague gesture with his hands, "out in the meadow.

"What the hell?" Dean demands, confused. "Who saw us?"

"See, that's the thing. Nobody knew where the rumor got started. I started askin' around, acting like I was more angry that someone dared say something about the fabled Dean Winchester."

The man in question rolls his eyes. "What'd you find."

"Well, it was no one in town, that's for sure. I kept askin' around, but nobody seemed to know. And then I got to The Roadhouse, and get this: Jo said it was a couple of drifters that are here to race you."

"Yeah? Who are they? I'll clean their clocks," the man growls.

"Cool it, Dean," Sam warns, knowing that his brother is prone to act on impulse when it comes to someone threatening people he cares about. "Jo didn't get their names, but she said they called themselves 'leviathans'. They got a whole gang, just a real big bunch of hot shots."

"She tell you how they said they found us?" Dean's question is asked through grit teeth. He's trying not to blow his top in front of Cas, not because he wants to keep a good impression, but because he doesn't want to do anything until he gets some input from the man.

"Said they were walkin' around out in the woods, looking for a place to bring their girls, and then they found you two."

The room falls silent after everything is out in the open. It'd be a lie to deny what happened, but the only person Dean is willing to admit such a thing to is Sam. Everyone else in the world can, for all he cares, keep their noses out of his business. It's his biggest fear, something he knew he's have to confront when he entered this relationship: someone, somewhere, was bound to find out about them, and there's a damn good chance that that person wouldn't be happy about it.

He'd just hoped that he could prolong that discovery.

Dean doesn't know that he's set his head down on the table until the air around him becomes hot and oppressive. He rises once more, feeling a little more level-headed and capable of dealing with the situation. Before him is his younger brother and one of the smartest men he knows. Sam is accepting and loving, and there's a good chance that he'll be able to help them figure out a way to fix whatever needs fixing.

And then Cas. Cas is next to him, all concerned blue eyes and set jaw. Dean doesn't know what he expected to see, but Castiel looks like he's ready to take on the world if need be. He doesn't think he gives the man enough credit. Cas has a mix of composure and a desire for action that Dean wishes he possessed.

"I really don't know what to do," he admits, placing his hands palm-down on the table. "Well, nah. I know what to do, but it ain't pretty, and I have enough sense to let you two talk me down."

"Thank god," Sam mutters to himself. It earns a roll of Dean's eyes, but all three are glad that Dean isn't going to go out and make things worse.

"I think," Cas starts slowly, saying his thoughts aloud as he puts them in order, "we can play this off."

"Cool. How?"

"A hot shot rolls into town looking for the best racer in the west coast, and he gets frustrated. He sees a group of boys out in the woods, drinking and being rambunctious. So he makes up a story," Castiel says.

Dean and Sam are silent for a moment, but then a huge, proud smile breaks out on the former's face.

"Goddamn, Cas, that's genius!" he exclaims. Castiel is overwhelmed with the simple pleasure of impressing the man, even though Dean is looking at him with such incredulous reverence that he ducks his head.

"This could work, Cas. This could really work. I was at home yesterday, so I could say I tagged along, and it'd blow his whole story outta the water," nods the younger Winchester, staring off into the distance as he debates the relative merits of what they'll be telling people.

"You didn't make too big of a fuss, did you? Didn't incriminate yourself right outta the gate?" Dean asks, just a bit of a teasing tone in his voice.

"Nah. Just made them think that they were wrong for defaming you," Sam grins.

It never fails to amaze Castiel how quickly the brothers can recover their camaraderie after a testing moment. For his own part, Castiel can still feel his pulse racing and the worry churning in his stomach. Maybe, he thinks, the Winchesters have just learned how to stow their emotions in their hour of need, left to be dealt with at another time.

"So, what?" Dean asks. "We got an immediate plan of action?"

The younger Winchester shrugs and says, "Act normal."

"You sure?" He eyes his brother suspiciously, as if Sam would ever intentionally lead him wrong.

"Yeah. If you keep it cool, everyone'll probably cool down, too. And I bet it'll piss off the assholes who started the whole thing."

"Good. Let 'em stew until I beat their asses in the race," Dean says with a wicked grin, nudging Cas. He looks so damn happy that Castiel has a hard time not smiling back at him. It's easy to forget the rest of the world with Dean there by his side.

"Hey, while you're here... can I talk to Cas alone?" With those words, Sam turns the conversation back to its previous gravity. Dean's smile fades almost instantly, but he nods anyway.

"Sure thing, Sammy. Send 'im back to bed with me when you're done," he says, trying to sound cheery as he claps Sam on the shoulder and walks out of the room. However, the two other men know that he's probably just as worried as anyone would be.

"What do you need?" Castiel asks once he hears the bedroom door shut.

"It's about your family, Cas," Sam starts, trying to breach the subject gently. He leans forward on the table in earnest, but he keeps his voice gentle.

Despite that, Cas bristles. He knows that Sam sees the tensing of his shoulders and the pursing of his lips. "What about them?" he asks.

"When I was talking to Gabriel, he... he misses you, Cas. And he's not the only one. Anna, Lucius, they miss you, too. They're worried. You should give them a call at least, just to let them know that you're okay." The younger Winchester chooses his words carefully. The subject is like a minefield, and if he approaches it wrong, the whole thing can blow up in his face.

"They know that I'm safe," is the only response Castiel can muster. He's twisting his hands in his lap, just waiting for the conversation to be over.

Sam's shoulders fall in exasperation. "It's not the same, Cas. It'd be - it'd be like if Dean took off for the weekend and didn't call. You'd be worried sick."

"Yes, but my family knows I'm here," he persists.

"Yeah, and they had to hear that from a stranger," Sam says with a voice slightly raised. When he realizes that he's getting louder, he softens his tone. "Look, I know Michael and Zachariah are, well, dicks, but it doesn't look like your whole family was. All I'm saying is think about it. Okay?"

"Okay," Cas relents.

Sam smiles at his words. "Great. Now get back to Dean before he pitches a fit about me keeping you too long."

"Thank you, Sam," the man says as he stands from his chair. And he truly means it; Sam's words have not been wasted air. While Cas wants to put off speaking to his family for as long as possible, he knows he can't do it forever. And it is a bit of a comfort to know that he is missed.

"'S no big deal," he shrugs as he gets up and begins busying himself with something in the refrigerator.

Cas pauses in the doorway for a moment to smile at him, but then he's off to Dean's - _their_ bedroom. The thought fills him with a peculiar warmth; he wonders if this is what it will always feel like, being with Dean. He hopes so.

When he enters the bedroom, Dean has already divulged himself of his clothes and is lying comfortably back in the sheets. When he hears Cas come in, he puts one arm behind his head and grins.

"Sammy keep his hands to himself?" he teases, making grabby-hands at Cas with the arm not behind his head. The man makes his way to the bed, greeting Dean with a kiss as he sits up.

"Mmm, yes he did," Cas says against the soft curve of Dean's lips.

Dean's hands slide under his shirt, tugging it over his head. "Good. But I'm not gonna," he warns. "You still up for spending the morning in bed?"

Castiel doesn't agree with words, but he tugs off his pants and crawls into bed next to Dean. He settles himself into the crook of Dean's arm while dragging the blankets back over the two of them. The world may crash down around them, but they'll be damned if they forfeit the small comforts while they can take them.

"What'd Sam wanna talk to you about?" Dean asks as he pulls Cas into his embrace. "'Less it was too private."

"He said I should talk to my family."

"Huh. You gonna do it?" Dean turns to look at Cas, his green eyes full of concern. Not the concern that comes with worry, but with care.

Cas shrugs. "Yes, I think I will."

"Well if they give you a hard time, just know you always got me to fall back on," he says, pulling the man closer to him if such a thing is even possible. He finds himself never wanting to let Cas go; there's nothing he'd like better than to keep Castiel in the protection of his arms, to just bury themselves in blankets and stay in bed forever, because here nothing can hurt the man he loves.

He doesn't miss the little smile that traces over Cas's lips as the man begins to fall back asleep. Dean stays awake just to savor the moment, and he wonders where his life changed. Months ago, he never would have been caught dead cuddling, let alone with another man, and here he is. It should bother him how easily he's slipped into this routine, but he can't find any reason why it should. So maybe he's got a reason to come home at night rather than stay late at the garage to work on his baby, and maybe he's got a reason to be a little more careful when he's racing. So what? Maybe a little reevaluation of the things he thought he knew about his life is a good thing.


	9. Nine

Cas and Dean have two days of peace before they run into Dick Roman.

Due to the postponement of his college classes for the week, Cas accompanies Dean to the garage. He keeps out of the way with a book in hand, though he reads more into the hard lines of Dean's body as he works than he does into the words. Every so often, Dean will turn around to catch Cas staring and will give him a smile and a wink, and Cas will avert his eyes only to raise them moments later.

Bobby comes in at about noon, intercepting one of their moments of staring at each other. They don't notice that he's there at first, not until he clears his throat and asks, "Ya done?"

Dean jumps in surprise, dropping the wrench that he was using to work on the engine. "Yeah, we were just..." he makes a lame motion, then ducks his head. "Whattya need?"

"I know it's about time for your lunch break, but we got some new guy rollin' in here, askin' to see you specifically," Bobby tells him.

"Who is it?"

"Damned if I know. Some new guy; didn't catch his name. If you don't wanna worry 'bout him right now, I can ask him to come back later."

At this, Dean and Cas exchange another look, though this time it's not a doe-eyed look, it's a look of worry. They both have a feeling that they're gonna run into some trouble.

"Nah, I'll get it right now. No big deal," Dean tell him. Bobby shrugs and walks off in the direction of the front desk again while the other man turns to Cas and says, "You wanna wait here? This might turn ugly."

"I'd rather be with you," he says.

"Well, if things start turnin', you get outta there, okay?"

"Okay," Cas promises. He has no intention of doing that, however. If things turn ugly, he's going to make sure that Dean has someone at his side.

Dean grabs rag and wipes off his hands as the two head out to the front. There, standing in the lobby, is a man with a close-cropped haircut. He's wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, and there's an air about him that just screams of adversity. When he sees Dean enter, he eyes the man up, as if he's trying to determine who he is.

Dean sticks out his hand and greets the man with, "Dean Winchester."

"Ah, the infamous Dean Winchester. Glad to meet you in person," the man smiles. It's a wicked one, like the candy-coating on a sour lollipop. He eyes Dean's dirty hand with disgust.

"You got a name?"

"Richard Roman. But you can call me Dick."

"Dick. Fitting," Dean nods with pursed lips. Before the man can shoot a comment at him, he asks, "So what is it you need from me?"

"Now, I got this car out front, and I'm ready to race her against the fastest man in town. Thing is, I wanna make sure she's up to standards. Y'know, how her engine's doin', if she's ready to win," Dick responds with that same devilish smile. "Think that's somethin' you can handle?"

"Sure thing," Dean says, and his voice is just a little tight, a sure sign that he's holding back all the curses he wants to spit from his lips at the man before him. But he's a professional; he can't reflect a bad light on the garage. It's owned by Bobby, and Dean is just an employee. If he owned the thing, he wouldn't hesitate to tell the man to fuck off.

The make to head out the front door when Dick stops. He motions at Castiel, saying, "I didn't know they let you bring your pets to work."

Dean gives no indication that the statement bothers him aside from the quick clenching of his jaw, but soon he's saying cheerfully, "Aw, now isn't that cute. Dick can't get it up without bringin' somebody down."

Cas bites his lip to hold back the laugh that threatens to bubble up. Dick's face is priceless; it's a mixture of shock and anger, but he soon smooths it over with that same expression of distant amusement.

"Very funny, Dean. Glad you've got a sense of humor."

"Thanks," he says cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "Now, what do we got here?"

They've made it outside, and Dean motions to the car before him. He knows damn well what it is: a '55 Thunderbird, painted a unattractive gray shade. It's a new model, and he'll admit, it's pretty impressive.

"This here's my ride. She'll beat any old Coupe, sure as shit," Dick brags, stepping forward as he pops open the hood.

"Yeah? Then whattya need me to look at? Seems you're pretty sure she's in top condition," Dean tells him. He peeks into the hood with a bit of trepidation.

"Just some extra assurance," Dick smiles. He crosses his arms over his chest and stands behind Dean, looking down his nose at the man as he goes through the basic maintenance procedure: checking oil, fluids, and more. The engine is a damn powerful one, and it's in top condition. It'd certainly be a challenge to race it, but not anything that Dean can't handle.

He steps back and looks at Dick. "She's in racin' shape, that's for sure," he acknowledges. "Nothin' I can do for her."

"Thanks, Dean." Dick sticks his hand out, and Dean shakes it quickly, wiping his hands on his jeans when he's done. "When'll I see you for a race?"

"Tonight?"

"Tonight. That'll work for me."

"All right. Well, I'll see you at the usual place," Dean says, intentionally vague. He wants to leave Dick confused, to make him ask around town to find what the 'usual spot' actually is.

"Yeah," the man nods, keeping any indication of that confusion from seeping into his face. It's in his eyes, however, and he makes to climb into his car. He pauses just before he actually gets in, however, as if another thought occurs to him. "One other thing," he says, a slow smile working its way across his face. "Feel free to bring your pet along."

He's gone as quick as hell after he says that, knowing he won't be able to get away with it if he sticks around any longer. Dean has his fists clenched as he and Cas watch the T-bird peel out of the parking lot, kicking up dust in its wake.

"What a dick," Dean mutters when he's nothing but a tail light in the distance.

"You can say that again," Cas agrees.

"That motherfucker ain't gonna get away with that, callin' you my pet," he spits, his jaw clenching and unclenching furiously. He turns and heads back into the garage, holding the door open for Cas as he goes. "I'm gonna beat his ass so hard that he won't be able to see my goddamn plates by the time I'm done with him."

"Just be careful, okay?" They're inside the building now with no one to watch them, so Castiel takes a chance and touches Dean's hand, a touchingly concerned action.

The older man's expression softens. "'Course I'm gonna be careful," he says quietly, and he takes Cas's hand in his own just long enough to give it a reassuring squeeze. "You'll come watch me, right?"

Here, Cas hesitates just briefly. He doesn't like racing; it scares the hell out of him, and he knows that he'll be terrified the whole time he's watching Dean drive so damn recklessly. But on the other hand, he knows his presence will be calming to Dean. Dean'll ride hard knowing Cas is standing out there with Sam and Ash and the rest of the usual crowd, cheering him on. And he knows that Deal will be more careful with him there.

So, even though racing scares him, he's not one to make Dean change just to please him, not when some compromise can be made. Castiel agrees, "Of course."

The way Dean's face lights up is worth every heart palpitation he's sure to have. It's like a kid on Christmas, opening the last gift under the tree to find it's the one they've been pining after all year. With no care for how it looks to anyone who might happen to pass by, Dean wraps his arms around Cas's waist, pulling him into a tight hug and lifting him right off the ground. He's exclaiming a mantra of "Thank you, thank you, thank you," as he spins the both of them around. It'd be pretty damn hard for Cas to _not _feel like he made the right choice with the reaction like that.__

__When Dean sets Cas down, he grabs the man's face and plants a soft, smiling kiss right on Cas's lips. They linger there for just a moment, because a few moments later, someone clears their throat and disturbs them._ _

__Cas and Dean break apart immediately, both of them red-faced and anxious like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Bobby is paused in the doorway, his take-no-shit face standing out proudly._ _

__"Boy, ain't you got some work to do?" he asks with a roll of his eyes._ _

__"Y-yeah," Dean stammers, "Sorry."_ _

__"Ain't nothin' to be sorry for, 'cept you're still clocked in." Bobby nods back to the garage. "Get goin'. And come talk to be 'fore you leave."_ _

__"Yes, sir," Dean says as he heads back into the garage area, Cas following close behind._ _

__As they go, Bobby calls after them, "And don't you call me 'sir'!"_ _

__"Shit, shit, shit," Dean grumbles as he picks up his wrenches. "I need to be more careful. Gonna get you hurt, and if I do..." He trails off with an angry shake of his head. Dean knows full well the consequences of people finding out about he and Cas. His overwhelming joy at knowing the man is going to watch him race is no excuse; they're trying to end the rumors about the two of them, not give people more of a reason to believe them. And the people who want to do the ass-kicking aren't going to go after Dean first, they'll go after Cas._ _

__"Dean," comes the quiet voice behind him. He looks up from the toolbox to see Cas, concern radiating out of his deep blue eyes, his head tilted just a bit to the side. "Dean, don't beat yourself up. The only person who saw was Bobby, and he didn't seem angry. We'll just have to be more careful."_ _

__"Yeah, well. I should be being careful already," he mutters, turning back to pick up the wrench he wants. He evades the stare he knows is burning holes in his back, instead opting to begin working on the motor of the car in front of him._ _

__Castiel doesn't say anything to him after that, but he doesn't miss the frustrated little huff he gives as he plops down in the corner with his book again._ _

__The day passes quickly after that. Dean loses himself in the systematic process of identifying and fixing the issues that he finds in a few different vehicles. It's simple work - at least for him - but he can shove his problems to the back of his mind, and it's part of the reason why he likes cars so much. He found solace in deciphering engine motors as a kid, when his dad was moving them around the country. It was easy to ignore the grief of losing his mom and having his father become more distant with each passing day. Since then, when the shit piles up, he turns to his cars. It makes the world a little more bearable._ _

__The only downside is how time flies when he works like that. All too soon, it's the end of the day, and he's clocking out. He hands his car keys to Cas and says, "I'll be out in a minute. Gotta talk to Bobby."_ _

__"All right," Cas agrees, taking the keys with a masked reverence; he knows that Dean doesn't even trust Sam with his keys._ _

__As he walks off, Dean steels himself. But before he gets very far, he simply walks up and knocks on the door to Bobby's office. He isn't one to dwell on things. Rather, he's going to come straight out and deal with it._ _

__"Come in," is the muffled grunt that comes from behind the door. Dean walks in, feeling a little like a kid walking into the principal's office. Bobby motions to the chair in front of his desk, and Dean takes it._ _

__"So. Whattya need?" he asks straight-out._ _

__"Boy, you know you're like a son to me. Right?"_ _

__"Right," Dean agrees, nodding._ _

__"Then it ain't gonna surprise you when I say I don't wanna see you hurtin'."_ _

__"Right," Dean agrees again, though he knows it was a statement, not a question. His heart rate picks up a little bit._ _

__"Well, it also ain't up to me to judge you boys. That's up to whatever higher power you believe in. I don't give one damn 'bout what you two do, and I'll be right there to back you. But everyone ain't like me, Dean, and you two'll find yourself in a whole world o' hurt if you ain't careful. Not everybody takes kindly to things they don't understand," Bobby states, somehow managing to be both laid-back and earnest at the same time._ _

__"Thanks, Bobby. Means a lot to me," Dean says, and it does. Bobby is a father figure to him, and to know that he cares is important as hell to him._ _

__"Yeah, yeah. Get outta here before you make me have a moment," the older man grumbles with a good-natured roll of his eyes, shooing Dean with a wave of his hand._ _

__Dean can't help but laugh at that, and he's out the door a few moments later with the quick call of, "See ya tomorrow!" before he's on his way back to the car to tell Cas what happened. He can see that the man is worried when he leaps into the Coupe, but the expression lightens once he sees how happy Dean is._ _

__"What happened?" Cas asks._ _

__"Bobby says he's got no problem with us, but he wanted to tell us to be careful."_ _

__A weight seems to be lifted from Castiel's shoulders. "That's good," he says as a faint smile tilts his lips upward. He knows how much Bobby's opinion means to Dean, and to have that acceptance is more important than the acceptance of nearly everyone else._ _

__The engine roars to life, and if Dean goes a little too fast on the way home, Cas can forgive him, because as they're halted at a stop sign, Dean turns to him and says with the biggest smile on his face, "I can't wait to get home so I can kiss you all night long."_ _


	10. Ten

"Tell me you're not gonna do it," is the first thing that comes out of Sam's mouth when he hears of Dean's proposition to race Dick that night.

"What's so wrong about racin'? I've done it a thousand times before," Dean protests.

"I just... have a bad feeling about him. About the whole race. Something's not right," he shrugs with a wave of his hand. It's a lame excuse, but Sam just doesn't know how else to put that sick feeling in the pit of his gut into words.

His brother just grins and pushes his shoulder playfully. "You a psychic now or what?" he asks. "C'mon, it can't be that bad. Worried he's gonna kick my ass?"

"No, I'm worried that you're gonna get in an accident, and Dick seems like the kind of asshole who'd wreck you on purpose," Sam protests, his voice becoming more earnest.

"Hey," the older man says, his demeanor softening. "Look, Sammy. Racin' brings in a pretty good paycheck, and it's fun. Dick's not gonna wreck me, 'cause I'm not gonna let him get close enough to me to do it. 'Kay?"

"Okay," Sam grumbles, though an unspoken 'but I don't like it' hangs in the air between them.

Dean can't really be upset that Sam still isn't okay with his racing, because, yeah, it's dangerous. But he does appreciate that his brother lets him do it anyway and doesn't put up too much of a fight. He really appreciates the fact that Sam will show up to all of his races to support him, even though he might not condone what's going on. 

He claps his little brother on the back and stands up. "You'll make it tonight, right? Cas is comin' along this time, and it'd mean a lot if you both were there."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there," Sam agrees. He sounds begrudging, but they both know better than that. They'll always have each other's backs. "I'll probably bring Jess along, too."

"The more the merrier," he shrugs. "I'm gonna go get Cas."

"You sure it's a good idea to bring him?"

Dean stops in the doorway, confusion filling all of his being. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

"It's just..." Sam shrugs. "I don't know. He's kinda terrified of racing, and I dunno if he'll be able to handle watching you."

While his little brother has a point, Dean doesn't embrace it. "Yeah, well. He says he wants to come." And to satiate Sam, he grumbles, "Well, I'll ask him again to make sure. How 'bout that?"

Sam doesn't answer him, but his raised eyebrows cease to be raised, and he turns his attention back to whatever schoolwork he's got in front of him. Dean lingers there for a moment, wondering what motivation Sam has, but figures that, whatever it is, it's not worth worrying about. Instead, he heads off in a better direction: the bedroom, where Cas is waiting for him, albeit in a non-sexual way.

When he enters, he finds Castiel digging through one of the dressers. The man looks up at Dean almost sheepishly when he walks in.

"I don't have much to wear that would be appropriate for a race. I hope you don't mind if I borrow something of yours," he says, letting his hands fall to his sides.

Dean grins. "No. No, I don't mind." The thought of having Castiel wearing his clothes - out in public, no less - causes such a welling-up of happiness that it's hard to keep it from showing. He heads over to the dresser and fishes around for one of his shirts. He pulls out a black one that's just a little too small on him and hands it over. "Think this one should fit you."

Cas takes it, but his hand lingers on Dean's for a moment, a warm smile on his face. It's so damn cute that there's really nothing else Dean can do but pull the man over for a soft kiss. Cas happily obliges, and there they stand for a few moments, their lips barely touching. Of all the things Dean has done in his life, few are as intimate as these simple things.

They've hardly pulled apart, so when Dean whispers, "Better get changed, huh?" their lips brush together.

"Yeah." Cas clears his throat. "Wouldn't wanna make you late." He begins to strip of his shirt on sight. All Dean wants to do is stare, but dammit, he told Sam that he was gonna make sure Cas actually wanted to go, and now is really the only time to go about doing that.

"About that. The whole race thing," Dean begins a little awkwardly. "You sure you wanna go?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" Castiel asks rhetorically with that little tilt of his head. He holds Dean's shirt in his hands, almost as if he has forgotten to put it on.

"It's just..." Dean makes a wide gesture with his hands. "You don't like racing. I know it scares you, and I don't want you to feel like you're forced into... y'know... going." It's a pretty lame statement, and he knows it.

"Dean. Of course, it scares me to know that you're in danger, but you enjoy it, and I know you're capable of doing what you do. I can handle a little bit of fear for you," Cas says, subconsciously leaning into the other man's chest as he does so. Dean wraps an arm around him and kisses him again, because _goddamn_ , he's hit the jackpot with this one.

"You better put that shirt on before I start taking everything else off," he murmurs against Cas's lips. "Doesn't sound like too bad a' deal to me, though."

"After the race," Cas tells him as he pulls away and drags Dean's shirt over his head.

Like he said. Jackpot. "You promise?"

"I promise."

"Good." With a cheesy grin on his face, he watches as he - dare he say it - boyfriend pulls on Dean's shirt. It's a little big, but Dean really likes the way it looks matched with Cas's jeans and sneakers and tousled hair. Dean wants nothing more than to throw the man down on the bed and strip everything right off of him, but he knows better.

"Well? we better get going. Don't want to be more than fashionably late," Cas smiles, tugging Dean to the exit with him.

The two make the drive in Dean's baby, while Jess picked up Sam with a group of friends. Word had spread quickly through the town that Dean was gonna race the newcomer, the Leviathans, the men that everyone is whispering about. They say that Dick Roman might just be the man to take Dean down. They say Dick Roman is dangerous, maybe more dangerous than Dean. They say he might just become a legend.

Dean hasn't heard any of these rumors. He went right home after work and didn't speak to anyone but Cas and his brother. He might be practically vibrating with nervous energy, but that's just something he does before ever race. He itches for it, for that danger and for the victory that he hopes for and often earns. He chain smokes with the window open, trying to keep the smoke from blowing too much on Cas.

Cas hasn't heard the rumors, but he's nervous for his own reasons. Dean is about to get behind the wheel and race a man that makes his stomach turn with the questionable intent that radiates from the newcomers. He holds Dean's hand to keep both of them grounded on the trip to the straight stretch of road where all the races take place.

And Sam? Sam has heard all of the rumors. He and Jess had been having lunch when Ash sat down to give them the scoop, and he doesn't like what he's heard. And that's why his stomach sits so heavy, why he's so much more reluctant to let Dean race this time around.

Dean and Cas arrive to the race road to find that everyone else is already waiting. Dick Roman has a set jaw that accentuates the fact that he's more than a little pissed, but Dean is as cool as a cucumber when he steps out of his car. He's got that swagger in his step, a cigarette hanging out of his slightly-curved lips. Cas squeezes his hand once for good luck before they head out the doors, and he joins Sam and Jess in the sidelines.

"'Bout time you showed up. Too busy swappin' spit with your boyfriend there?" Dick nods to Cas standing off to the side.

"Aw, that's cute. Dick here feels so bad 'bout himself that he's gotta talk bad about everyone else," Dean says with a sickly-sweet smile, hands in his jacket pockets and his head tilted to the side. It earns him a snicker from the crowd.

Dick doesn't have a response to that, and he flounders for a minute in fury, the tops of his ears turning red. "Where're we racin' to?"

"See that tree down there?" He points to the lone tree at the end of the road. "First one past the tree wins."

"Sounds good." Dick nods.

"One of your guys goes down there, one of my guys goes down there. Make sure the results are fair," he adds, waving at Benny, one of his drinking buddies. Dick makes a sharp motion with his head, and one of his nameless cronies follows Benny to the end of the road. "Any wagers?"

"Nope," says Dick. "Whoever wins takes the title of the best racer in the country. That's it."

"All right." He sticks out his hand, and the two shake on it.

"You boys ready?" Ash asks, throwing an arm over each of their shoulders. He's the honorary flag boy, a title he claimed before any of the girls could get to it. Nobody really questions it.

Dean and Dick get behind the wheel of their respective cars.

"Start 'em up, boys!" Ash shouts. The reaction is almost immediate. Both of the cars rumble to life as they turn their keys. The audience is dead silent in anticipation. Dean can feel his heart thumping in his chest, can feel his stomach fluttering. He stares at the road before him intensely.

Ash raises a white handkerchief slowly, drawing out the whole ordeal. Then, in the blink of an eye, he brings it to the ground.

Both cars shoot off from the start line so fast that the skirts of the girls watching are ruffled, and Ash can feel his hair being whipped back. Dean has the petal pressed solidly to the floor, keeping his baby going in a straight line path to the tree. The Coupe rumbles around him, jarring his bones, but he holds the wheel steady and takes control of the immense power. 

Cas is in the crowd, his body drawn tight and tense as he watches the men. They're neck-and-neck for the first few seconds, and it looks like it might be a close one. He watches as Dick's T-bird, however, starts to get a little wobbly, and the man starts slowing up and falling back.

Dean shoots by the tree seconds later, and it's an undeniable win.

He has a grin on his face when he turns his Coupe around and cruises back to the crowd. All the locals are cheering for him, and he exits the Coupe to a bombardment of exuberant faces, hugs, and pats on the back. Sam, Cas, and Jess shove their way over to him somehow, and he's so damn happy that he forgets how cool he's trying to be and hands out too-tight hugs to the three of them.

"That was great, Dean!" Jess exclaims in congratulations. She, unlike Sam, has no qualms with Dean's racing; in fact, she quite enjoys it.

"Thanks, Jess," Dean smiles, kissing the top of her head. He gets a pat on the back from Sam, who still looks like he doesn't want Dean to race but is grudgingly pleased that his brother won.

And Cas. Goddamn, does Dean want nothing more than to kiss him right now, but he knows he can't. Instead, they exchange a similar type of hug that he's handing out to pretty much everyone around him, taking a moment to whisper, "Just wait 'til I get you home," in his ear.

The little shudder that Cas gives as he pulls away is incentive enough to get home as fast as humanly possible.

"Dean!" exclaims Pamela, pulling the man in question into an excessively tender embrace. "You did so good! You comin' with the rest of us to celebrate at The Roadhouse?"

Dean hesitates. He really wants to get home, because he can see Cas from the corner of his eye wearing his damn t-shirt, and it's driving him nuts. But, hell, if he doesn't go, suspicion will be raised again.

"Aw, honey, you can bring Grumpy and his girlfriend and angel-eyes, too!" Pam exclaims, punching him playfully on the arm. "C'mon, it'll be fun!"

"Okay," Dean agrees, shooting a sheepish glance to Cas, who's already rolling his eyes at Dean's worry.

"Not so fast," comes a voice from the crowd, sounding so much like a phrase from a cheesy movie that Dean almost laughs. Dick shoves through the crowd until he's nose-to-nose with Dean. "The fuck did you do to her?"

"To Pam?" Dean asks. He knows that's not what Dick is asking, but he'll be damned if he doesn't take every chance to piss off the little shit standing in front of him.

"My car, you jackass! The fuck did you do to my car?!" he demands, shoving Dean. The crowd backs up to give the two of them room.

"Hold on there, kiddo. Don't go gettin' yourself into somethin' you can't handle," Dean says in warning, backing up from Dick just slightly. "I didn't do a damn thing to your car."

"Bullshit," Dick spits. "She was runnin' just fine before you were tinkerin' around in her today."

"You were there, and you know damn well that I didn't even touch her. Cas can vouch for me, too."

"Oh, so we're all supposed to believe the two faggots, huh?"

At this point, Sam steps in, towering over Dick. "You're not gonna get far in this town with a mouth like that, 'specially not if I can say anything about it."

"Sammy, don't. I got this." He gives his little brother a steady look, letting him know that he's got himself covered. Then he turns back to Dick. "I sure don't appreciate you runnin' your mouth in this town 'bout shit that's not true."

"You know damn well that what I said was true," Dick says, quietly but deadly.

"I know that you walked in here, talkin' shit 'bout my friends, that's what I know. And you better close that damn mouth of yours before I gotta knock it shut. Ya dig?"

Dick takes the first swing. He doesn't land it; Dean grabs his fist before he can. Then, he uses the other to place a hard punch right to the center of the asshole's face. He can feel Dick's nose crunch over until it's practically lined up with his cheek, and he knows it's broken.

The man backs up, clutching his nose as blood pours from it. A string of ribald curses falls from his lips, ending with a spluttered, "You motherfucker!"

"Oh, c'mon, Dick! Don't tell me you're outta commission already?" Dean taunts. It seems as though he is, however; all of the Leviathans are swarming Dick, helping him to his feet, and dragging him back to his car.

"You're gonna pay for this, Winchester, if it's the last fuckin' thing I do! You better sleep with one eye open 'cause I swear on my fuckin' life that I'll end yours!" the man shouts, flailing against the others who hold him.

Dean just keeps the smile on his face and waves. "'Kay, Dick. You do that!" he calls.

It seems to infuriate Dick even more, but by that time, his friends have restrained him in the backseat of one of their cars, and they don't hesitate to speed off in search of a hospital.

"Who's up for some celebratin'?" Dean loudly asks the silent crowd, and that gets them up in a state of commotion once again. People start cramming into cars, and those who didn't drive hitch a ride with someone else. Dean himself ends up with a carful of people: he only has one row of bench seats in the Coupe, but that doesn't stop Cas, Ash, and Jo from squeezing into the car with him. And really, Dean doesn't mind, because Cas is pressed flush against his right arm, one of his hands wrapped around Dean's shoulders in a seemingly innocuous action to make sure that everyone has enough room.

There's a lot of laughing on the way to The Roadhouse, but nothing is said that really sticks in Dean's mind. Ash cracks a joke, and everyone breaks out into fits of giggles, and it seems like they just don't stop until they're parked and piling out of the Coupe to flood the restaurant. In these times of celebration, nobody remains in their cars to take their meal. Rather, they all sit either inside the restaurant or at the picnic tables inside of it.

"Oh, great," Ellen groans when Dean saunters triumphantly inside; the kid is practically glowing, so it's obvious that he won a race. And even though she'll gripe at him for it, he brings in a damn big crowd, and race nights are her best nights.

"Aw, don't be like that, Ellen! Can't blame everyone for wantin' to celebrate my big race!" he teases back. He winks at her before heading over to his usual booth. They lose Ash and Jo to helping Ellen whip up the crazy amounts of orders that will be coming in, but they pick up Sam and Jess. The couples take their respective bench seats next to each other.

Before they're even settled, Jo is there in her apron. "All right, hot shot. You know you get a free slice of pie for winnin', so what else do you want?"

"Uh... I'll have a beer. And french fries for us all to share."

"Okay. Anything else for the rest of you?" Jo asks, looking at the others.

"Sam and I 'll have a Coke," Jess says. "And a sundae for us to share. Biggest size you got."

"Make that three Cokes," Cas adds.

"Gotcha," Jo grins, and she hands the order off to Ellen before heading to the next table.

Before Dean can even acknowledge Cas like he wants to, a group of giggling girls appears at the table, and they start fawning over Dean with words of praise, compliments about how cool he is, about what an amazing racer he is, and a thousand other things that they hope will coax the older Winchester into their pants.

Sometime during this, a waving motion catches Cas's eye from the window. He tries to ignore it for a while, since it's likely just someone partying, but soon it gets to be too much, and he glances over. And damn it, he wishes he hadn't.

Gabriel is standing there, waving to him furiously and rather obviously, and Cas wants to roll his eyes at how terribly typical that is of him; Gabriel can pull a series of pranks and have no one ever suspect him, but he has no grace with the little things.

"I'll be right back," he murmurs to Dean, who looks at him with the widest and most insecure pair of green eyes that Castiel has ever seen.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Mhm. I'm just going to go speak to someone. I'll be back before you know it," Cas says with the most reassuring smile he can muster, because nothing is wrong. He wants nothing more to kiss Dean just to make sure, but he quickly squeezes his hand before he gets up.

Gabriel is leaning against the hood of Lucius's Bel Air, meaning that yet another brother is milling around The Roadhouse. Cas walks over and keeps a careful distance from his brother.

"Nice shirt," are the first words from Gabriel's mouth. "That Dean's?"

"If you're here to patronize me..." Cas trails off, shaking his head. He has his arms crossed over his chest. He wants to make sure he communications that he's not amused.

"I'm not, I'm not," his brother assures him quickly. "Look, I just..." Gabriel runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. "I'm worried 'bout you, Castiel. You packed all your bags one day and left, and we hardly had any word on what happened to you."

"I didn't feel that it was anyone's business but mine."

"Yeah, okay, I get that. But, hell, Castiel. Couldn't you have just said something? Gave me a warning?" Gabriel looks so genuinely upset that it's hard for Castiel to stay mad at him. His brother scoots over and pats the hood of his car, inviting Cas to sit next to him, and with a little bit of hesitation, he does.

"It wasn't my intention. I was upset, and I didn't think," Cas tells him quietly, staring down at his sneakers. For the first time since moving out, he feels guilty for hurting his family.

"Yeah, well. I guess I can forgive ya. Zach and Michael were always pretty big dicks to you. Can't really blame you for finally gettin' fed up." At that, he gives an amused little snort. "Gotta hand it to you, though. It was pretty great to see how the two of them lost their heads when they found out you were gone, and then... damn, when they heard you were livin' with the Winchesters? Pretty sure Zach's face invented a new shade of red, that's how mad he was."

Even though it shouldn't, it does cause a certain kind of pride to well up in his stomach, replacing the dread that had rooted there when he first saw his brother.

"They didn't try to get ahold of me." It was meant to be a question, but he already knows that it's a statement of fact. He looks up at Gabriel, who in turn ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck.

"Ah... no."

Cas nods. He really isn't surprised.

"They, uh... didn't really want anything to do with you after that. They were mad about that Winchester kid already, but they started gettin' suspicious that something funny was going on. They kinda..." he heaves a sigh at this, like he doesn't want to say it, "decided you weren't part of the family anymore."

"Oh." He still isn't surprised, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. It feels as though his throat is constricting, and there's a stinging in his eyes until Gabriel throws a comforting arm around his shoulder and gives him a relatively awkward hug.

"Look, kiddo. I... I don't care what you're doin' with Dean. I won't tell a soul, and I won't make you tell me anything you don't wanna. And I'll be honest; that kind of thing isn't somethin' I'd touch with a ten foot pole," he says, a little bit of amusement leaking through with that last statement. "But you're still my little brother. Nothin' will change that. And I'm not the kind of person who's gonna make you feel bad just because of something I don't believe in."

The words warm Castiel's heart to the point where he struggles for a response for a few minutes. He returns the hug, murmuring a quiet, "Thank you," because it's the only thing that he can get out of his mouth.

They pull apart and Gabriel ruffles Cas's hair with his familiar smile on his face. "Aw, don't mention it, little bro."

Cas hesitates before he asks his next question. The answer could potentially hurt him more than Zachariah and Michael's scorn, but he has to know.

"Lucius and... and Anna? Are they...?"

"They're not mad at you, if that's what you wanna know. They don't believe all the crap that Zach and Michael are spittin' out. But, y'know. They miss you, too," Gabriel tells him. There's no hint of a joke in his voice, though Cas knows he'd never pull a prank that hurtful.

"That's good," he says on an exhale of relief, and he glances around. "Are they here?"

"Yeah, they're wanderin' around here somewhere."

Cas nods and makes a mental note that he'll have to say hello if he sees them.

"Well," says Gabriel, pushing himself up from the hood of the Bel Air. "I'll let you get back to celebratin'. Remember to be safe and use protection and all that."

"Gabriel," Cas scolds him with a roll of his eyes.

"What? I'm your big brother; gotta act like it!"

Despite himself, Castiel finds that he's laughing. He and his brother exchange another hug and say their goodbyes before Cas heads back into The Roadhouse. By now, everyone has given their personal congratulations to Dean, and the food is starting to be served, so most people have retreated to their respective tables. He slides into the seat next to Dean quietly.

"Hey!" the man exclaims in greeting, though it's muffled due to a mouthful of pie. "Where'd you go? We got our food already!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Sam reprimands him. "It's gross."

"Oh, bite me." Dean says it with a mouthful of food just to spite his brother. Then, he swallows his food and turns back to Cas. "Well?"

"Gabriel was here, so I went to talk to him," Castiel says nonchalantly. He reaches for a french fry.

"He was? Did it go okay? He's not mad at you, is he?"

"No. He's actually quite supportive of my decisions."

"Oh. Well, that's good." Dean sounds about as relieved as Cas feels. He pushes his pie over to the man next to him. "Wanna share?"

"Woah, Dean Winchester _sharing_ his victory pie? Is Hell frozen over?" Sam asks sarcastically. Dean's glare is so immediate that Jess snorts and almost chokes on her Coke from laughing.

"Can it, bitch."

"Whatever, jerk. You're just in denial."

It speaks volumes that Dean does nothing more than roll his eyes in response to Sam. Instead, he hands Cas a fork with a soft smile on his face. "Well, dig in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be taking a quick break from posting for about a week, since I've just been super busy with school and prom committee, and I haven't had time to do a whole lot of anything, let alone write. Thanks for understanding! :)


	11. Eleven

When they finish their celebrations at The Roadhouse and people start clearing out, Dean and Cas take their leave. They wave goodbyes to Jo and Ash, and it only takes one look at the two of them for Sam to offer, "I think I'll stay at Jess's tonight."

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean grins, and it's really the only thing he can think to say when there are still too many people around them.

The ride home isn't quiet, since Dean has the radio on, but they don't talk much. Dean knows that anything coming out of his mouth is bound to be ribald phrases, and Cas simply doesn't know what to say. Instead, Dean keeps one arm around Cas's shoulders, and Cas lies against his chest.

They keep up that peaceful appearance until they step inside the doors of their home. Then, Dean grabs Cas by the waist and pushes him against the wall, their bodies flush against each other. His lips go straight to Cas's neck, and he bites down on that one special place he knows makes the man writhe.

Cas's breath hitches in his chest, and his hands fly up to work their way into Dean's hair. He doesn't quite know what to do with himself, because all of these emotions are so new to him, and he keeps losing himself in touch of Dean's hands and lips on his skin.

Dean stands up straighter so that they're just about nose-to-nose. He wants to see Cas's wide eyes and growing pupils, wants to feel the intimacy of that stare.

"Gonna make you feel so good, Cas," he murmurs quietly before he pulls the man's mouth to his own and grinding their hips together. The kiss ends up not being much of a kiss at all, because they're both gasping at the friction, and Castiel is making a whole lot of soft noises that pull similar noises straight from Dean.

Just a few moments, in, and he pulls back so far that they aren't touching anymore because he's going to come in his jeans if they keep going like they are, and he wants to make this mindblowing for Cas.

The man in question is leaning back against the wall, his chest heaving and a blush spread over his cheeks. Cas's legs are trembling, and he looks so damn good in Dean's t-shirt Dean has to physically restrain himself from fucking him against the wall right then and there.

"Fuck, Cas," he groans. And before he can help it, Castiel is dragging Dean back over to him, and he's sucking on the bottom of Dean's lip so gently that it almost seems out of place with the scramble of their hands under one another's t-shirts. And, fuck, if that isn't the hottest damn thing...

"If you don't start taking my clothes off right now, I'm-" Cas's words are cut off by Dean dragging the man's t-shirt over his head. He discards it on the floor, not caring where it lands before stripping off his own as well.

"We should probably go to the bedroom, Cas," he murmurs. However, Castiel has his arms wrapped around Dean's neck, and he drags the two of them together for another kiss. Dean groans into it, and his hands slide down to Cas's thighs. He pulls them up to wrap around his waist and slides Castiel up the wall, holding him there with the press of his hips.

When they break for breath, Dean growls, "Cas, we gotta go the bedroom right now, or I'm gonna fuck you right against this goddamn wall."

A whimper comes from Cas's swollen lips, but they disentangle themselves. The trip to the bathroom is full of stumbling as they strip off their clothes. They sneak soft touches and nips at one another's skin, and the moment they're in the bedroom, they're attached at the mouth again. Dean guides them slowly back to the bed until Cas's knees buckle against it. They fall rather gracelessly, and they spend the next few seconds scrambling closer to the headboard.

Dean props himself up so that he can stare down at the tousle-haired man below him. He almost gets lost in Cas's eyes, but he still finds the motivation to ask, "You really wanna do this?"

"Dean, if I didn't want to, I wouldn't be here," Cas says in return. He sounds quite breathless, and it makes pride well up in Dean's chest.

"Yeah, I know. I just mean..." he trails off, not wanting to have to finish his statement.

"Dean Winchester, I want you to fuck me, and I want you to quit worrying," Cas commands. He pulls Dean down so that their foreheads are touching. "Can you do that for me?"

"God, yes," he practically groans, dropping his head into the crook of Cas's neck. "Gonna make this so good for you, baby. So fuckin' good."

"Dean," Cas gasps as the man in question begins kissing and licking and sucking his way down Castiel's chest. He wants to map out the topography of the man's body with his mouth, to be able to recognize him by one simple touch. He places a firm hand on Cas's hips to keep him from bucking up too much.

He keeps his eyes on Castiel's reactions. He likes it when Cas's hands twist into the bedsheets when he nears the man's cock and passes right over it to nip at the soft skin of his inner thigh. He likes it when Cas bites his pretty lips or runs his tongue across them. He likes it that Cas alternates between keeping his eyes squeezed shut or wide open. And goddamn, he _loves_ it when Cas lets out all those pretty little noises. He just wonders what the man is gonna sound like when they're fucking.

"I'm gonna have to prep you 'fore we start," Dean tells Cas, nestling in between his thighs. The man nods, though if it's out of agreement or prior knowledge, he doesn't know.

Dean scrambles up to grab his bottle of lubricant from the chest of drawers next to his bed. He had bought it on a road trip at the beginning of summer, and now he thanks whatever motivation caused that.

He slicks his fingers with the lube and looks up at Cas to find that the man is staring down his body to watch Dean, and Dean'll be damned if Cas isn't the most perfect fuckin' thing in the world.

"Ready?"

"I've been ready."

Dean restrains smirk at that. Instead, he slowly works his index finger into Castiel's hole.

Cas throws his head back, whispering, "Oh, my _God_."

"Good?"

"Mhm." The sound is almost a sob of pleasure as Dean crooks his finger just slightly.

"Look at me, baby. I wanna watch you," Dean purrs.

Castiel complies. He trains his intense, hooded-eyed gaze at Dean, his lips parted as he breathes. It makes Dean's skin feel like it's on fire, and it's fucking amazing.

"Talk to me, Dean," he whimpers. "I.. like it when you talk."

"Like dirty talk, huh?" he asks, and Castiel nods. Dean adds in another finger, working slowly and carefully to prep the man and find the pleasure spot that's going to send a waterfall of ecstasy over him. "You're so fuckin' tight, Cas. Gonna feel so good when I fuck you. I wanna make you scream for me so loud you wake up the neighbors, so loud you're not gonna be able to talk in the mornin'."

Cas is letting out a series of soft whimpers each time Dean presses into him. The man's breath hitches when he adds a third finger just for good measure.

"Love hearin' you, Cas. Love all those pretty little sounds you make. God... so fuckin' perfect."

He can see the effect it has on Castiel. He's almost completely undone with every spoken word. His cheeks redden, and his hands keep clenching and unclenching the sheets.

"Dean - oh, _oh_ \- Dean, I'm going to come," he gasps. Sure enough, with one more crook of Dean's finger, the man is coming. Dean strokes Cas's cock, letting him ride it. He's crying out incoherent phrases with the occasional profanity thrown in. And when he's done, he lets his head drop back onto the pillow.

Dean doesn't realize that he's grinning like a child on Christmas morning until he crawls up next to Cas and says, "Goddamn, Cas. Came without me even touchin' your cock. That's... so fuckin' hot."

Castiel gives him a soft grin in return. He wraps his arms around Dean and pulls him into a lazy kiss; it's slow and deep, and Dean can almost feel the post-coital bliss rolling off of Cas.

"We're not done," Cas says when they break apart, staring at Dean as earnestly as he can with his eyes still blown out with pleasure.

"What?"

"I want you to fuck me tonight, and you're gonna fuck me," he says. His words seem to trip over each other on their way out of his mouth. It sounds a little bit like he's drunk.

"You sure?" Dean asks, but he's already running his hands over Cas again.

"Damn sure."

"Fuck, you're perfect," Dean tells him again.

Cas rolls his eyes and rolls onto his side at the same time. Dean pulls them flush against each other, and their legs intertwine while they begin exchanging kisses again. They're still quite lethargic at first, but they slowly begin to heat up as Castiel starts to get turned on again. Soon enough, they're rutting against one another, not kissing so much as simply exchanging air with their every gasp at the friction.

"I'm ready," Cas whispers softly against Dean's skin.

Dean can't form words quite yet, so he responds by rolling Cas over onto his back. The man spreads his legs, and Dean makes his way in between them. The only warning he gives to Castiel is one quick look that is answered with a nod, and then he slowly pushes into Castiel.

"Tell me when," he says to Cas, who's gritting his teeth as he's stretched in a way he's never been before. Dean wraps one arm around the man's waist and uses the other to hold Cas's hand. Both forms of comfort seem to have a big impact on him, because soon enough, his expression softens, and his eyes open.

"Move," he commands. His voice is rough and demanding, and it's so fuckin' hot that Dean really has no choice but to comply.

He moves his hips as slowly as he can at first, which really isn't that slow at all. Cas is still tight as hell, and he wants to make sure he doesn't hurt him, but it just feels too damn good.

However, Castiel is having none of that. He wraps his legs around Dean's waist and uses that leverage to pull himself up and take the full length of Dean's cock in one fell swoop, gasping as he does so.

"Oh, fuck me," Dean groans. Just like that, the dam of self-control breaks. He starts pistoning his hips in the closest thing to a steady rhythm as he can, but it's damn hard once he starts going. Castiel is beneath him, letting out grunts and moans each time he thrusts in, and it makes Dean go crazy. He keeps their clasped hands together as he goes, trusting that Castiel will provide the leverage that he needs.

"Dean, Dean, you're almost-" Cas begins in a broken, husky voice as Dean moves his hips to find the man's prostate, but his words are choked off in a cry and the words, "Right there! God, Dean, right there!"

Dean keeps his hips aimed at that one spot, making sure to hit it every time. It drags sobs of pleasure and moans of Dean's name each time. Castiel clenches his eyes shut and drops his head against the headboard. Dean lets go of Cas's hand for just one moment, running his fingers through the other man's hair and sucking on his exposed neck before demanding, "Look at me, Cas. C'mon, baby, look at me."

Cas does so. They keep their gaze locked as they fuck, blue eyes piercing into green. Dean takes Cas's hand in his own again and holds it over the man's head, as it's the best way to hold them steady.

Dean drops his forehead down against Castiel's, since it's easier for the two of them to keep looking at one another. It's almost terrifyingly intimate as well: they never miss any expression on the other's face, no matter how fleeting, and they're sharing the same air.

He begins thrusting in a little slower, trying not to rush this. It's Cas's first time, and he'll be damned if he doesn't take as much time as he can. Dean can feel the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, and he knows that Cas must be reaching that point as well.

"Dean - I'm, I'm almost there," he gasps like he can read Dean's mind.

"Me too, baby," Dean says, his voice breaking just a little. "'S okay, you can come for me, Cas. You can touch yourself."

Cas lets out a little whimper at the words as he relinquishes the arm he's had around Dean's neck to reach between the two of them and stroke his cock. The combination of the man's expression - red lips trapped between teeth, sweaty hair, and pupils so damn wide that hardly any blue remains - and the clenching of his body as he comes, crying Dean's name, is the final straw that tips Dean over the edge. He comes with a sob, embarrassingly enough, and continues to thrust into Cas until he's ridden out his orgasm.

They stay in that position for a moment, Dean still inside of Cas with their foreheads pressed together, Cas's legs around Dean's waist, and each one's fingers tangled with the other's. Their chests heave as they catch their breath, and pretty soon, they're both smiling in a mix of spent pleasure and joy.

"Goddamn, Cas," Dean murmurs through his grin as he pulls out and rolls off the man. He lays on his back, and Castiel wiggles into the crook of his shoulder.

"That was amazing," he mumbles against Dean's skin, sounding thoroughly spent.

"Mmm," Dean says in agreement. He wraps one arm around the man's waist and watches him. Cas's eyes are closed, and he looks so at peace resting there. Somehow, he still looks innocent, despite his sex hair and the hickeys marring his skin. Dean runs his free hand through Cas's hair.

"I'm going to fall asleep now," Castiel informs him, his speech a little slurred from exhaustion.

The other man smiles, because if that isn't endearing, he doesn't know what it. "'Night, Cas."

"G'night, Dean."

It isn't much longer before Castiel's breathing steadies out and Dean knows he's asleep. He's overwhelmed with the desire to sleep as well, but for a while, he just wants to memorize the sight before him. He almost wishes he had a camera, just to be able to make sure that this moment could go down in the annals of time.

His chest is warm with love, and for once in his life, he's going to wake up next to the person he just slept with. He's going to make time for someone in his life, someone who isn't Sam. He's going to stay with one person for more than a night, and he's going to make sure that person feels loved, because Dean knows that he's not a catch. Sure, he can put on a bad boy front and make the girls swoon, but scratch a little at the surface, and there's just one big ball of insecurities and not-good-enoughs and disappointments and screw ups.

Dean thinks he loves Cas. He only thinks of it at times like these, when he's half asleep already, but it's true. And he's scared. He knows it's not a question of _if_ he's going to let Cas down, it's _when_ , And the last thing he wants to do is break that man's heart.

He pushes the thoughts away. He doesn't want to ruin the moment with the demons in his head. Rather, he kisses Castiel on the top of the head and praises all of the choices in their lives that brought the two of them together.

Dean falls asleep with his lips still resting on Cas's hair.


	12. Twelve

When Castiel wakes up in the morning, he feels warm and more than a little bit sticky. He relishes a few moments of peace before the jarring sound of his alarm clock rattles him awake.

It's then that he realizes he's woken up alone.

Cas knows that the sudden pang of fear he feels probably isn't necessary, but he can't help it. He knows Dean's track record, and sure, he's been sharing a bed with the man, but that could always turn around and bite him in the ass.

But, he chooses to do what he does best, and he ignores it. After limping out of bed with a god-awful ache in his bones, Cas goes about his usual morning routine: a quick shower, changing his clothes, brushing his teeth, poking at his hair before ultimately deciding to ignore it, and finishing with some breakfast before heading off to school with Dean.

When he makes it out to the kitchen, he finds Dean already sitting at the table; he's already dressed for the day in his usual t-shirt-jeans-boots combo. His feet are propped up on the table - if Sam were here, he would _kill_ Dean for that - and a cigarette is hanging out from between his lips as he tinkers with their broken record player.

Dean glances up and almost immediately breaks out in a smile. "Mornin', sunshine."

"Good morning," Cas greets him as he eases himself into the chair closest to Dean.

"Little sore today?" the man asks, a mischievous glint in his eye and a half-smirk on his lips.

"More than a little," he answers, but he isn't upset about it.

Dean looks quite pleased with that. He turns around and puts the record player and his tools on the counter, asking, "How do you like your eggs?"

Castiel is a little taken aback by this; Dean has never cooked for him before. If anyone makes breakfast in the morning, it's Cas. Usually, though, they just fend for themselves.

"I don't really have a preference," he says.

"Good," Dean grins, "'Cause I only know how to make 'em scrambled."

With that, he leaps up from the table. Cas watches as the man brings out two pans, a few eggs, a package of bacon, and various other things that Cas can't see. He takes Dean's cooling coffee and sips at it as he watches the man go about the preparation of their meal. It's calming, he thinks, to watch Dean and know that he's a tangible human being, one who hasn't left him.

Dean gets lost in the simple routine of cooking. He's been up for about an hour already; he tried his best and failed to go back to sleep, so he decided to make use of himself before he takes Cas to school and heads to work. He cleaned up the clothes they'd scattered across the hallway on their way to the bedroom and started on the record play that Sam's been bitching at him to fix.

He gets the bacon going before he starts on the eggs, and he huffs in amusement at his goddamn domesticity. Sure, he cooks for Sam all the time, but this is... different. He grew up taking care of Sammy, and it's almost engrained in his every cell to do what it takes for the kid. Cooking breakfast for the man he slept with less than 12 hours ago, for the man that he's been seeing for weeks, is almost in that dangerous territory that Dean has avoided venturing into for his entire life.

Dean ignores it; this really isn't the time for soul-searching, if there really ever _is_ a time. Instead, he finishes breakfast for the two of them and loads their plates as Castiel pours the two of them some more coffee. He sets their breakfast down on the table, then drags their chairs right next to each other. He doesn't miss Cas's smile at that.

"Thanks," he says as he takes the coffee Cas hands him.

"No, thank _you_. I wasn't the one to make breakfast," Castiel smiles as he takes his seat next to Dean. Almost instinctively, they scoot together until they're sitting arm-to-arm.

They only get a few moments of peace before they hear the front door open, and by the heavy step and series of thumps that follow, Dean determines that his brother has come home.

"Sammy?" he calls.

At the sound of his voice, Sam heads into the kitchen, his hair still messy from sleeping on it. He looks a little dazed as he waves. "Hey. Gotta run, Jess is waiting," he says, sounding a little flustered. However, his eyes make their way to the plates of food that they have in their hands, and he asks, "Is that breakfast?"

"Not for you," Dean says through a mouthful of food.

Sam wrinkles his nose. "Jerk," he mutters as he walks out of the room.

"Bitch!"

Castiel rolls his eyes at the two of them, but he can't help the smile that takes root on his face. He years for that kind of camaraderie with his family, but it's something he never got. His siblings were too distant, and the concept of 'family' was never something that they were taught.

"What're you smilin' about?" Dean asks him, breaking his train of thought as he nudges Cas with his knee.

"You and Sam," he responds. "I'm glad that the two of you are so close."

Dean wrinkles his nose. "Why?"

Castiel shrugs, looking down as a feeling of self-consciousness washes over him. "You're like the epitome of the perfect siblings. I feel like I'd read about you two in books.

"Ah, we're nothin' special."

"It's just different. I never had that."

"No? You got lots of brothers. You never got close to any of them?" Dean asks. It's hard for him to believe, but then again, he's never known anything else.

Castiel shakes his head. "No. We spent most of our lives separated in our house. Anna and Gabriel were really the only ones I got along with, but even then, there was such an age difference that it was difficult."

"Guess it's all about how you were raised, huh?" Dean says. "Sammy and I were always in pretty close quarters. We kinda had to get along."

"Really?"

Dean nods and pokes at his food, but he doesn't really elaborate. However, he's made Cas curious. Castiel hasn't heard Dean's story, not in full. It's only been random comments here and there, and so he asks, "What was your childhood like? If you don't mind me asking."

The man hesitates, and Castiel can feel the tension in his body. "You really wanna know?"

"Of course. If you're not uncomfortable," he says softly. He doesn't want to force Dean to do something that he doesn't want to in the name of curiosity alone.

"Heh," Dean laughs as he stretches out his legs, and the sound is almost cynical. "Guess it's about time I get it off my chest, huh?"

Dean is quiet for a long time after he says that, and Castiel almost thinks that he's not actually going to say anything. But what he doesn't know is that Dean is running through his life story in his mind and simultaneously determining the pros and cons of actually being outright with what he has to say. The only people who know about his childhood are Sam, who lived it right there with him, and Bobby, who gave him the stability he needed.

"I'm actually from Kansas, believe it or not," Dean starts with, looking at Cas and nodding in confirmation. "Born there, started growin' up there. I don't remember much, 'side from a few things. But, uh, I remember one thing real well."

Here, he pauses, because his heart is thumping a mile a minute, and he feels like he's running out of breath. He fumbles his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and sticks one in his mouth, lighting it as he continues.

"My mom died when I was four. Buncha kids were playin' with rockets one night, and they shot one into our house. Mom went to go get Sammy - he was just a baby then - but she, uh... she ran right through the fire for him. Covered him up with a blanket and just barreled right through. She gave Sammy to my dad, and then he gave him to me, and told me to go, and I went. Dad tried to get her out, but... burns were too bad. She didn't even make it to the hospital."

Castiel grabs Dean's hand, and he holds it tight. "I'm sorry, Dean."

The man in question nods, but it takes him a moment before his can regain control over his voice. "Dad kinda fell apart after that. He put us in the car after mom's funeral, and we never really stopped drivin'. He'd pick up odd jobs in random towns, and he'd get drunk a lot to forget everything." He shakes his head, taking a deep drag from the cigarette. "'M not saying he was the worst dad in the world or anything. He was just real distant. He was always 'sir' and not 'dad'. Me and Sam spent a lotta time together in the backseat of his car, and it was kinda us against the world.

"We were only kids when he enlisted in the war, and he dumped us at Bobby's while he was gone. Bobby actually raised us like we were regular kids. We played ball, and he helped Sammy do good in school. When dad came back from the war, he wanted to get right back on the road again, but me and Sam didn't want to. We were tired a' runnin'." Dean's voice is quiet now, and Castiel doesn't dare interrupt him, because he feels that if he does, Dean will clam up once again.

"So dad bought a house here for a while - this house, actually. But we weren't here for longer than a month at a time, 'cause he just kept runnin' from everything that was eatin' him up.

"I was eighteen when he died. We were all in the car together, comin' home from wherever-the-hell we had been, and a truck came outta nowhere and hit us."

Dean goes silent for a while, and Castiel can do nothing but rub his back consolingly.

"I don't, uh... I don't remember anything," Dean admits, grinding his cigarette out in the ash tray. "I hit my head pretty hard, and I was out of it for a good couple a' weeks. Sam wasn't hurt too bad. He was out for a day or two, and then he was okay. But dad... the driver hit him head on. The doctors tried everything, but it wasn't enough, and we lost him.

"We took him back to Kansas and buried him next to mom. But after the funeral... me and Sam got in the car, and we didn't know what the hell to do. We went back to Bobby's, and we roomed with him for a little while," he trails off with a slight smile curling his lips. "I don't know where we'd be without Bobby. Guy's a freakin' saint. He gave me a job to keep me busy and taught me how to run a household, and he helped Sam get into college. And when he thought I could handle myself, he gave me the place dad had bought out here. Said he kept it up for us for when we came back. And here we are."

His eyes are stinging, and he wipes them with the heel of his hand as inconspicuously as possible and laughs off the fact that he was feeling an undesired emotion. "Well, there's the end of my sob story."

"I'm sorry, Dean," is all Castiel can say, because he is. He's sorry that Dean has been put through such trials and that he's lost both of his parents. But Dean looks down at him, and the man's eyes have a deep-rooted sadness, yet there's an expression of love on his face that shouldn't be possible for someone who has been beaten down for so long.

"Don't be," the man tell him, dropping their foreheads together. "Gotta go through hell to find a little piece of heaven, right?" Then they're kissing. It's slow and soft and full of all the words that they want to say but can't, of sorrows unspoken and apologies never said. And it's how Sam finds them a few minutes later, when he storms into the kitchen.

"You two!" he shouts accusingly. Dean and Cas jump apart, both of their eyes wide in shock. However, that slowly turns to amusement when they see Sam in the doorway, holding a yardstick in his hand with a t-shirt hanging off of it. "I swear to God, if I find someone's pants in here, I am going to kick you both outside."

Dean bursts into a fit of laughter. "Aw, Sammy, c'mon! Don't tell me you and Jess never got it on in the hallway!"

"Yeah, well at least we don't leave our nasty-ass clothes layin' around for our younger siblings to find!" Sam exclaims, his pseudo-serious tone cracking with good humor as he chucks the t-shirt at the older Winchester. It's Dean's shirt, the one that that Cas borrowed, and Dean throws it right back. The squeal that comes out of Sam's mouth is definitely worth it. "You're an ass, Dean!" he laughs as he storms out of the room.

"Do my best!"

Sam just makes a half-assed groaning noise, and then he's gone, back to Jess where she waits for him in the driveway. Dean smiles to himself and grabs their empty plates.

"Sammy's the best damn thing that came outta our childhood," he says softly, though his smile falters just slightly.

"You came out of it, too," Cas comments. It doesn't earn him much more than a cynical huff of laughter as Dean starts washing their dishes, and that breaks Castiel's heart. There are so many people who would kill to just have one of Dean's many good qualities, and yet the man sees himself as nothing special.

So, Cas does the only thing that he can think of. He stands up and wraps his arms around Dean's waist, pressing his chest and cheek to the man's back. Dean's body is tense for just a moment, but then he melts into the touch, continuing to wash the dishes.

"I love you," Cas murmurs quietly, almost without realizing what he's said. It's not as if the words are untrue, however; Cas thinks that nothing he's said in his life has been this _right_ before.

But Dean freezes at the words, and Castiel can feel it. "What did you say?"

"I said, I love you," he repeats. He isn't ashamed of what he's said.

A thousand things begin to run through Dean's mind. Love equates to inevitable failure. The lists of everyone he's loved and everyone he's failed are the same. It doesn't matter who it is; Dean is like a train wreck just waiting to crash into the nearest person willing to get a little closer to him than normal.

"You don't have to say anything back," Castiel tells him softly, "and stop worrying, because I know you are. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Dean Winchester, and I don't care what you have to say about it."

Dean can't find anything to say to that. His heart feels like it's melting with how nice it is to hear those words. All he does is drop the dish he's washing, wipe his hands off on his jeans, and turn around to embrace Cas.

"I love you, too, Cas," he says, because he knows how much those words mean, and he knows just how true they are.

They remain like that for a while, just wrapped up in one another as they lean against a wet kitchen cupboard. It isn't the typical romance by any means, but it's _theirs_ , and it's beautiful no matter what. The sun shines down on them from the open window, and the birds sing outside in the trees, and it's just the two of them in a position they never believed that they'd ever be in, both of them beaming with pure adoration of one another.

"You're somethin' else, Cas," Dean murmurs softly against the other man's hair.

"Somethin' good, I hope."

"Somethin' better than good, ya goof."

Cas lets out a snicker at that and turns his head up to kiss Dean. Yet again, it's soft and ridiculously romantic, with gentle hands placed on cheeks and lips moving in rhythm. When they pull apart, Castiel keeps his hand in place and runs his thumb in careful circles on Dean's cheekbone while their eyes remain locked together. If they were any other two people, perhaps the prolonged eye contact would be awkward, but with the two of them, somehow it feels like this is the way it's supposed to be.

"Should probably get you to school," Dean mumbles. His words trip over his tongue on their way out of his mouth. He almost feels drunk; his chest is lighter from unloading just a little bit of the burden that he's carried for the past eighteen years of his life, and to be immediately validated by the love of a man he doesn't deserve? It's a lot to take in at one time.

They head out the door a few minutes later, after finishing the cleaning and gathering up all of the things that they'll need for the day. They hold hands until they open the front door, at which point they remain a respectable distance apart until they get into the Coupe. Then, they're holding hands again.

"Whattya say to goin' to see a movie tonight?" Dean asks. "They got Rebel Without a Cause playin' at the drive-in theater a couple towns over, and I know how much you like James Dean. Plus, we can fool around in the back, and no one will know it's us."

Castiel grins at just the mention of the celebrity. "Of course I'll go," he says.

Neither of them can wipe the ridiculous smiles off their faces as they go their separate ways for the day.


	13. Thirteen

Castiel doesn't realize how much life he's missed out on until he's camped in the front seat of the Coupe with Dean as they share popcorn and a drink and one another's body heat. He doesn't stop smiling for nearly the entire night as the two crack stupid jokes and make up their own dialogue or recite it from memory because the speaker in their car only works half of the time. It leaves him wishing that he had met Dean earlier, so that he needn't have wasted nineteen years without the man. He feels as though he hasn't lived, not fully, until he shook Dean's hand for the first time.

When Rebel Without a Cause is over, they don't even need to communicate for Dean to know that the night isn't ended. Dean starts the car, and they just cruise with Cas pressed flush to Dean's side.

"Where d'you think you'll be in five years?" Dean asks out of the blue. It seems like a random question, but Castiel knows that it likely means a lot to the man. When Dean drives, he tends to say things that have been on his mind for a while.

"Five years..." he begins. "I wanna be happy in five years."

Dean's eyes crinkle with a smile, and he gives a quick glance in Cas's direction. "Pretty sure nobody wants to be _sad_ five years in the future. I just mean... whattya wanna be? I know Sammy wants to be a lawyer, but what about you?"

"I thought I wanted to be a doctor for a long time," Castiel muses. He's never shared this part of himself before. "I thought it would be nice to save people. To make them better."

"But what about now?"

"Now, I think I'd like to be a writer."

"What'd you write about?" Dean asks him. He doesn't sound mocking, as he so easily could have. But, because he isn't like anyone else that Castiel has ever met, Dean sounds sincere.

"Bright green eyes and lazy Sunday mornings and falling in love with dangerous boys in fast cars," he responds easily with a slight smile on his face. It makes Dean smile; it might be a little cheesy, but God be damned, he can't say he doesn't enjoy it.

"Aw, gee, Cas. You're gonna make me blush," he laughs, trying to play down how pleased it really makes him feel.

"What about you, Dean? where do you see yourself in five years?" Cas counters.

He snorts, because it's a loaded question, and he knew it when he asked Cas earlier. He doesn't see himself in five years, and that's the problem. Life for the Winchesters has always been a rollercoaster that winds them throughout the country. He likes the way things are going for him so far, but he doesn't know what wind will blow him to the next town down the road.

So he says, "Maybe I'll go pro at racin'. Wouldn't be too bad of a life."

"Well, you're already the best racer that I know of," Cas says in an attempt to be supportive.

Dean, however, catches him with a grin. "Cas, how many other racers do you know?"

"... Not many."

He snickers at that. "Yeah, well. Thanks for the thought, Cas."

"It's true, Dean. You must be great if everyone around considers you the best racer they've seen. Have you ever even lost a race?"

"A few times, yeah."

"When?"

"When I first started racing."

"That doesn't count. You were still getting the hang of it."

Dean rolls his eyes, but he doesn't protest further. It's nice to have someone who actually does care for him enough to tell him so and to mean it. He has Sam, of course, but Sam is blood, and that's different, because it'll always be the two of them. Someone else coming into the picture alters the situation.

They don't say much after that, though both of them have one unanswered question that they wished to be answered: will they still be together in five years? They hesitate to ask, because they both fear the potential answer.

Dean thinks that Castiel wouldn't want to be with someone like him in the future; he's dangerous and unpredictable. He changes like the weather, and he would understand if Castiel didn't want to deal with that. But, on the other hand, Castiel thinks that Dean will get bored with him. He knows Dean's track record with relationships, and nothing has lasted longer than two weeks. It's been longer than that for the two of them, but he doesn't know how he can hold the other man's attention when he's just so different.

Needless to say, they both fear that day when the two of them aren't together anymore, but that doesn't mean they need to speak about it just yet.

Dean turns the music up, and they cruise back to town taking all of the back roads that they can find. They keep the windows rolled up because it's getting colder at night, but it gives them an excuse (as if they needed one) to stay wrapped around one another.

They make it home a short while after and find that Sam is gone.

"Probably with Jess," Dean comments absently after peeking into Sam's room.

"Then there'll be nobody to hear us," Castiel murmurs, snaking his arms around Dean's waist from behind.

"There's still the neighbors," the older Winchester says as he turns around. He lets Castiel push him back into the wall, their bodies pressed together.

"I don't care what the neighbors say," Castiel growls into the crook of Dean's neck. He wastes no time in sliding his hands up the other man's shirt, kissing and biting a mark onto Dean's neck.

The man in question lets out a shaky laugh. "Goddamn, Cas," he says. He places his hands on Cas's hips and pulls him in closer. "I don't think I'm ever gonna regret corrupting you."

Castiel makes up his mind right then and there that they aren't going to make it to the bedroom. He gyrates his hips against Dean's, and the both of them let out a soft noise of pleasure.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean groans. He drops his head back against the wall with a soft thump as Castiel works on of his hands down into the man's jeans. "Fuck, one day - ah, oh shit - one day I'm gonna take you right on the hood of the Coupe."

That wrenches a groan of anticipation from the man; if he's honest with himself, it's one of the hottest things he can think of.

"Dean-" is the only word he gets out of his mouth before the man turns them both around and presses Castiel to the wall instead. He keeps his hands on Cas's hips and his lips and tongue practically connected to his throat. The only time he ever relents is when the friction is too much, and he has to let out a groan of pleasure.

"Should probably get to the bed," Dean whispers against the reddened flesh, but he makes no move to break away.

"Forget the bed," Cas hisses, sliding his hands under Dean's shirt and dragging it off in their brief moment of being split apart.

Those three words take Dean by surprise; they're the last things he would have expected to hear, and yet somehow, the only possible thing that could have been said.

He pulls Castiel toward him in a fervor. Their kiss is rough and needy, more of an acknowledgement of how turned on they are than anything else. When they pull apart, Dean takes full advantage of the moment by stripping Castiel of the remainder of his clothing while the other man tries to do the same to Dean. It's clumsy, and they both fumble because their hands only want to caress skin, not worry about clothing.

When, by some miracle, they find themselves stripped of their clothing, Dean places both of his hands on the sides of Cas's face and pulls the man in to kiss him. As they do, their bodies press together, and the feel of their erections brushing together soon has them gasping out more than anything else.

"Dean, p-please," Cas whispers, and they're the only two words he can manage. Dean, however, immediately picks up on his meaning.

"Just a sec," he murmurs, letting Cas go for a moment to fish through the pocket of his discarded jacket for the lube that he's made a habit of carrying with him. When he stands back up, however, he has to take a moment to collect himself, because Castiel leaning back against the wall with blown-out pupils, messy hair, kiss-reddened lips, and a general pleasure-inspired glow is worth burning into his memory. "So damn pretty, Cas."

The man in question smiles just slightly. "Shut up and get over here," he demands, grabbing Dean's hand and pulling him back into his embrace.

Dean slicks up his fingers, knowing that Cas is gonna need the preparation, and nudges the man's legs open. He starts out with two fingers, first circling them around Castiel's hole before finally pressing them in.

Cas lets out a damn near heavenly groan as he does, letting his head thump back against the wall. Dean, eager to hear every noise that Castiel can produce, wastes no time in pressing his fingers deeper and moving them quicker.

The man against the wall bites his lip in an attempt to contain his near-constant gasps of pleasure. He wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders to hold himself up. He's already pretty far gone, and when Dean adds a third finger and hits his prostate, Castiel has to muster up all of the initiative he can to say, "Dean - Dean, I'm ready."

"Look at you, all worked up," he murmurs as he pulls his fingers out. "Bet I could make you come and not even touch you."

Castiel nods; he really can't find the words that will make his voice work. The truth is, he doesn't doubt Dean's skills to make him come just from talking to him.

"Jesus, Cas," the man laughs, though the sound wavers slightly. They're both too far gone to indulge in any talking. Dean simply grabs Castiel's legs and wraps them around his waist, pinning the man to the wall as he slides into him.

Out of all the possible places he had imagined fucking Cas, against the wall may not have been one of Dean's first choices. He's kind of glad about that, too, because no amount of imagining could compare to how fucking _incredible_ it is. Castiel urges him one with pleas of, "harder, Dean, o-oh! Right there! Don't you stop!" while digging his blunt nails into the skin of Dean's back. And if that isn't incentive enough to keep fucking the man, then he doesn't know what is.

Their movements are as desperate and jerky as their breaths. They're far beyond the point of words, and all they want is to get off before Sam comes home or before their legs give out. Cas takes full advantage of having his legs around Dean's waist by using them to help him match each of Dean's thrusts.

Dean has his face buried in the crook of Cas's neck, and he can feel each gasp and moan as it comes out of the man's mouth. It's intimate as hell, especially when he feels Castiel's entire body tense up as he gasps, "Dean, I-"

"Come for me, baby."

With one final pointed thrust from Dean, Cas comes, and sure enough, Dean hasn't laid one finger on the man's cock. That thought paired with the absolute wrecked sound of Castiel's voice as he cries out strings of senseless phrases tips Dean over the edge as well. He comes so hard that his knees damn near buckle, which isn't something he could say of anyone else he's ever been with.

They remain there for a moment, the two pressed against the wall with Castiel still wrapped around the other man. Their heartbeats and rapid breaths slow down, and both men are aware of the other as it happens. When they gain a little composure, Castiel unwinds his legs and Dean pulls out, and they both use the wall to hold themselves up as they stare at one another. Castiel's blue eyes are nearly consumed by his pupils with his brown hair sticking up in every direction and lips that have been kissed pink. And Dean, unable to hold it in, is smiling like an idiot.

"You're fuckin' perfect, Cas," he mumbles out from a mouth that feels as though it's been made for the sole purpose of tracing the skin of the man he's fallen for. And then, he does just that. Their kiss is gentle and tender, the kind that speaks more than their words could. Careful fingertips rest on jawbones, and hands cup the back of heads, and it takes a few tries for them to end it. One of the two keeps coming back for more, just little kisses or a drag of the teeth over a bottom lip, until finally, they rest their foreheads together and stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eon.

"Should probably get to bed," Dean proposes. Really, he'd love nothing more than to stay there forever, feeling like the entire world was composed only of the two of them. But his damn legs are about to give out, and he's so exhausted that he can hardly keep his eyes open. One look at Cas tells him the same things about the other man.

"What about our clothes?" Cas asks as they tangle their fingers together and amble back to their bedroom.

"Leave 'em 'til morning."

"What about Sam?"

"He can handle it."

Castiel smiles softly at that; he's not in any mood to worry about what Sam's reaction will be when he finds the pile of their clothing, not when Dean is leading him to bed. It's a matter that is best left to be dealt with when it happens.

They hardly get the covers pulled back before the two of them pile into the bed together. It's Dean who crawls in last, and he settles in with his head on Cas's chest, their hands still entwined. Castiel uses his free arm to brush through Dean's hair, which earns him a sleepy and sated smile.

"I'm glad I met you, Cas," he murmurs.

The statement warms Castiel's heart and drags a smile out of him, too. "I'm glad I met you, too, Dean."

That answer seems to satisfy the man, because Dean's grin gets even bigger, but he hides it by ducking his head and closing his eyes. "G'night, Cas."

Castiel doesn't have time to return the sentiment because Dean has already fallen asleep.

 

__________

Cas wakes up to the stirring of whatever he has his face pressed against. It takes him a moment to get his wits about him before he realizes that he has Dean's back pulled flush against his stomach with his forehead resting on the muscle of the man's upper back.

Gently, Dean lifts Cas's arm so that he can turn around. Surprise flashes through his sleep-lidded eyes for just a moment when he realizes Cas is awake as well, but then he breaks out into a grin and pecks Cas on the lips.

"Mornin'," he murmurs quietly, still smiling. "How long've you been up?"

"Not long."

"Mmm. Good," Dean mumbles as he nuzzles into Cas's chest. The man just smiles and runs his fingers through Dean's already messy hair. For a man who claims he doesn't cuddle, he sure seems to enjoy a whole hell of a lot of it. Not that Cas is complaining.

They stay like that for so long that Castiel thinks Dean must have fallen asleep. However, he's taken by surprise when the man suddenly pushes him over, rolls on top of him, and props himself up so that he can look at Cas.

"Hey," he grins.

"Hello, Dean."

"There's still twenty minutes until we have to get up," he states, dropping his head down to press a kiss to Cas's jaw.

"Yeah?" Castiel runs his hands up the muscles that make up Dean's back. "How would you suggest we spend those twenty minutes?"

"I've got a few ideas." The smirk is audible in his voice, but Cas can't see it because no sooner do the words come out of Dean's mouth than he presses it to Castiel's. They ease into it, with chaste kisses that morph into something more when Dean traces his tongue along the Cas's bottom lip.

It's enough to break any and all self-control that they were reigning in. Cas lets out a soft, breathy noise and spreads his legs to allow Dean more access. In truth, he's still pretty damn sore from last night's escapades, but that doesn't mean he's not up for compromise.

However, they don't get much farther than that before they hear the telltale sounds of someone rustling around in the kitchen.

Dean lets out a soft groan and drops his forehead on Cas's chest. "Sammy's up." He normally wouldn't care; Dean has let his younger brother suffer through the sounds of many other sexual encounters. But he's feeling generous. It's about time he gave Sam a break.

"I suppose we'll just have to take a rain check on this one," Castiel offers. That comment makes Dean look up at him, almost in surprise. He breaks out in a grin.

"Guess we will," he echoes. "Now whattya say about some breakfast? I think I'm starving."

Cas doesn't really have much of a say in the matter because Dean enthusiastically kisses him, and when Dean is in a good mood, it's contagious. Pretty soon, they've rolled out of the comfortable confines of the bedsheets, turned off their alarm clock before it can screech at them that it's time to wake up, and begin hunting for something presentable to pull on until they really feel like getting ready. Dean opts for a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else while Cas dresses much the same, though he covers himself with a t-shirt as well.

They venture out of their bedroom, trip over the pile of clothing that the left on the floor the previous night, and head straight for the kitchen. Sam eyes them as they wander in, an eyebrow raised in questioning.

"G'mornin', Sammy," Dean greets him, wandering over to peer into the pan that his brother has set out before him. "Pancakes?"

"Mhm."

"Makin' enough for everyone?"

"Enough for me and Cas, yeah."

Dean dons an expression of mock hurt and looks pointedly at his brother. "I'm hurt, Sam. You're breakin' my heart."

"Yeah, well. That's what you get for leaving your clothes sitting _right outside my bedroom door_ ," Sam shoots back. He glares at Dean, then turns to give Castiel a 'look'. "I swear, if you two wanna fuck like rabbits, fine. Just save the stripping until you get to the bedroom. I had to go dig out a yardstick just to push your shit down to your room."

Dean pauses with his hand on a coffee mug, ready to pour, but the words have brought a mischievous smile onto his face. He turns to Cas and mouths, "Should I?"

"Dean, don't," Castiel warns.

Sam perks up right away. "Don't what?"

"Sammy, we, uh... we didn't make it to the bedroom last night," Dean confesses like he's admitting to a crime. "But the wall worked out just fine."

"The wall?" Sam repeats.

"The wall," Dean confirms.

"As in, the wall right by my bedroom."

"Yeah, that one."

Sam's nose wrinkles up, and he can't find it in him to respond right away. After a few tries, he finally gets out the words, "For Christ's sake! I touched that wall!"

Dean lets out a surprised laugh and turns back to pouring coffee in order to avoid the disgusted and shocked gaze of Sam Winchester.

"Dean! Don't ignore me!" Sam protests, balling up a washcloth and throwing it at his brother. "You're joking. Please tell me you're joking."

The man in question elects to ignore his younger brother. Instead, he hands Cas a cup of coffee, places one at Sam's spot at the table, and sits down. He focuses all of his attention on the liquid.

"I can't believe you," Sam mutters with a shake of his head. He turns around and keeps working on the pancakes.

"It, ah... it was actually Cas who started it," the older Winchester points out with a smile as sweet and innocent as candy. Cas rolls his eyes.

"Oh, so you're gonna sell out your boyfriend?"

"I'm not selling him out, I'm just telling the truth." Dean throws his hands up defensively.

Sam rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh. "Whatever, Dean. Just drink your damn coffee."

Dean salutes him and brings the mug up to his lips, then drags his chair over to Castiel. He doesn't like being apart from the man, not when they have no choice but to be as soon as they step outside of their front door.

It isn't long before Sam finishes their breakfast and hands out a plate of pancakes to everyone. As Dean drowns his in syrup, he asks Sam, "No bacon?"

The younger Winchester gives Dean his best deadpan, unamused stare. "Can it, Dean."

"Oh! I forgot!" Dean turns to Castiel with a grin on his face. "Sammy can't cook to save his life, but he makes some mean pancakes. Don't know how that works."

"As a consolation, they are very good pancakes," Castiel states seriously. A moment of silence follows, and then both of the Winchesters burst out laughing. Dean has never met anyone who can bullshit as well as Cas and then still have absolutely no idea when someone is bullshitting someone else.

"Thanks. Thanks, Cas," Sam says, still snickering.

"I don't understand, why are you laughing?" Castiel asks, looking between the brothers.

"You're just cute," Dean tells him. He can't stop smiling at the man before him. Sam makes an obnoxious gagging sound, which earns him a middle finger and not even a spared glance from his brother.

They finish their meal in relative silence, mainly because Sam's pancakes really are pretty damn great, and there's no room for talking in between their bites.

When they finish, Castiel takes their plates and washes up with several protests from both of the Winchesters, who insisted that they can take care of themselves. Castiel simply gives them a smile and says, "You let me stay here for next to nothing. It's the very least I could do."

"Aw, c'mon Cas. You're here 'cause we want you here, not 'cause of what you can do for us," Sam protests, standing up and reaching out for the plates. Cas simply gives him a smile and turns to the sink before Sam can grab them.

"Dean," Sam protests, turning to Dean. The man simply shrugs, an action that says 'I can't do anything about it'. The younger Winchester gives a heavy sigh, but he plops back down at the table across from Dean.

Castiel cleans up quickly, and he gets the feeling that the brothers are itching for a few moments to themselves. He ruffles Dean's hair as he walks out of the room, saying, "I'm going to take a shower."

Dean leans back in his chair and calls after him, "Join you in a few, okay?"

Sam makes another disgusted noise in his throat, trying to disguise it in his coffee cup even if he's grinning at seeing his brother so in love.

They wait until they hear the rattle of the pipes as the water turns on. Then, Dean turns his full attention to his brother.

"So, you don't just make pancakes out of the blue. What's the occasion?" Dean asks, reaching over to pour himself another cup of coffee.

Sam huffs a sheepish laugh. "I'm that obvious, huh?"

"Little bit, yeah."

"Damn." Sam smiles for a few moments, then breathes in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. "There's something we need to talk about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few things to mention.
> 
> First, I've spent the past few days revamping the ending of this entire story because I didn't really like how it was turning out. A few people have mentioned the similarities between this and Twist and Shout, and I just finished it and realized that, yeah, they're kind of the same, haha. Hopefully now there'll be a greater distinction.
> 
> Second, I'm trying to keep my weekly update schedule going throughout summer, but please be patient if I falter a bit. I have exams this week, I'm flying from Michigan to Texas on Saturday, then from Texas to Washington a few weeks after that, and then back to Texas the following week. I'm not sure how much writing time I'll have, but I'm still hoping to get things out to you guys!
> 
> Thank you for being so awesome :D


	14. Fourteen

"What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean asks, his voice immediately coated with worry. His entire body tenses up.

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that," his brother assures him, holding his hands up in a placating motion. "It's just... Jess and I have been talking. And..."

"And...?" Dean prompts.

"And I'm gonna ask her to marry me," the younger man spits out in a rush. "She's been talking to her parents, and they're okay with us getting an apartment. We've got one picked out, and we're looking to move in soon. I just wanted to... to let you know before I did anything."

"Hey, don't worry about me, man. I want you to be happy, Sammy," Dean tells him. However, his body hasn't relieved its tension. He and Sam have been nearly inseparable ever since Sam was born, and it'll be weird to have him out of the house and living his own life.

"Dean..." he sighs, knowing exactly what's running through his brother's mind.

"No, I'm serious, Sam. I've always wanted you to have that normal life. Wife, a job you're willing to wake up for every damn morning, two-point-five kids, and a nice house that makes everyone wrinkle their noses. And if you're ready for that..." he makes a wide gesture with his hand, "go for it."

"But you'll be okay?" The concern in Sam's voice is touching, but Dean brushes it off like it's nothing.

"Sammy, I'll be fine. Don't make your life decisions based on me," he says.

However, the man doesn't seem convinced. He just eyes Dean with an expression that says, 'if you're lying to me, I'm gonna know, and I'm gonna do what I can to make you happy'.

"I've got Cas now, anyway," Dean tells him, waving off the concern that is being forced his way.

Sam smiles knowingly at that, and it makes his brother roll his eyes; sentiment really isn't his thing.

"Guess that's true," he says. "Well, I just wanted to let you know. Didn't want to spring anything on you last minute."

"I'm proud of you, Sammy," Dean states. Sam wrinkles his nose, but his brother protests, "I'm serious, man. You're growin' into a real fine man."

"Aw, shut up." Sam, however, can't contain his smile. It means a lot to him to have Dean's approval; he's spent the past few days worrying himself sick about what the man would think. He knows that their father may not have been as pleased, but he should have known that Dean wishes nothing but the best for him.

Dean stands up and, in the fashion of Cas before him, ruffles Sam's hair. "You're a damn good kid, Sam." He turns to leave and cut the sentiment short, but he finds himself being turned around and embraced before he has any say about it. It's more toned down than their back-slapping-and-manly-as-hell hugs, but neither of them say anything. When they part, Dean pushes Sam playfully, a content smile on his face.

"You better invite me to the wedding," he says faux-threateningly, pointing a finger at Sam and raising his eyebrow at him.

"Jesus, Dean, why _wouldn't_ I invite you?"

"Bachelor party?"

"Don't push it," Sam laughs, shaking his head. He turns to pick up his coffee mug.

"Aw, c'mon, Sammy! Don't be such a Debbie Downer!"

"I don't need a bachelor party, Dean," he protests as he shooes Dean away with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I already said all the stuff I needed to. Go bug Cas now, not me."

"Oh, shut up, you love me," he calls over as he heads out of the room. Truth be told, he doesn't want to bug his brother any further. Sam has opened up to him, and that's all he can ask for. So, he follows Sam's advice and heads back to his bedroom.

Castiel is already there, sprawled out on his stomach on the bed with a book in front of him. His hair is damp and sticking up every which way.

"Aw, I thought you were gonna wait for me before you showered," Dean whines, crawling onto the bed next to Cas. He pushes the man over, and Castiel promptly responds by whacking him playfully with the book.

"We're running on a time limit, Dean. If we got in the shower together, you'd never make it to work on time," Cas smiles. He pecks Dean on the cheek and then pushes him to the edge of the bed. "Go take your shower before you get me distracted."

"Yes, sir," Dean grins, saluting Castiel like a soldier. He ducks under the pillow that Cas throws, snickering as he runs out the door.

 

___________

"Sammy's gonna propose to Jess," Dean says on their way to The Roadhouse. Castiel had tagged along to the garage with Dean because he didn't have any college classes.

"Really?" That doesn't exactly surprise Cas. It was only a matter of time.

"Yeah. He's thinkin' he'll do it this weekend. Got reservations at some fancy restaurant and a ring and everything," he says, focusing intently on the road. It's a very obvious indicator that there's something on his mind.

"Are you worried?" Cas asks.

"Um..." Dean trails off, looking for a good lie. Cas, he knows, will see right through whatever he tries to make up, so he simply opts for the hard truth. "It's been me an' Sammy for so long, it'll just be weird to see him starting a new life. Not that I don't want him to," he adds quickly.

"I'm sure Sam will be over all the time, Dean," Castiel assures him with a smile. "He's probably just as nervous as you are."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely."

"Guess that's true," he shrugs, pulling into his usual parking spot. Then, Dean turns to grin at Castiel. "Least we'll both have someone to keep us company, huh?"

Before Cas has a chance to respond, Meg is there, leaning into Castiel's window with her usual sly smile on her face.

"Well, hey there, Clarence," she purrs, giving Cas a meaningful look before turning to Dean. "And you, too, Dean."

"Whattya want, Meg?" Dean asks with hard eyes. The two of them aren't exactly friends. She was the first girl Sam dated in their charming little town, and she had the worst influence on the kid that Dean had ever seen.

"Oh, I just thought I'd come grace you with my presence," she smirks, "maybe see Clarence's pretty face."

Dean tries, but he can't keep his jaw from clenching. There's not much he can do about Meg. It's not like he can publicly declare his relationship with Cas, not unless he wants to get them both killed.

"Oh, calm down, Dean. I ain't gonna hurt him," Meg states, reaching over to squeeze Castiel's shoulder. "I just got some news for ya."

"What?" he asks grudgingly.

"Word is, the Leviathans are comin' back to town. They say Dick Roman is stewin' worse than a summer storm," she informs them. Her eyes have a dangerous glint in them; where there's trouble, there's Meg.

"Yeah? When's he comin'?"

Meg shrugs. "Nobody knows. But I'd watch your back, Dean. I bet he ain't gonna be so easy to beat this time."

"Hah, yeah. I'd like to see him try to beat me," Dean smirks. "Nothin' worse than a sore loser."

"Nothin' worse than a sore loser who's obsesses with beatin' your ass," Meg amends. "Don't underestimate him, Dean-o. He seems like a real hot shot, and it doesn't look like he's handlin' his loss very well. That's a pretty bad combination."

"Well, when he comes, you let me know. 'Til then, I got better things to think about," Dean tells her.

Meg shrugs. "Don't say I didn't warn ya." Then, her sugar-sweet smirk appears on her red lips again, and she trails her finger down the side of Castiel's face. "I'll see ya later, Clarence." With that, she's gone.

"Bitch," Dean mutters under his breath as she sashays back to her group of her friends.

"Dean, why does she call me Clarence?" Castiel asks. His brow is furrowed in confusion as he watches Meg go, looking like the whole conversation has just gone right over his head. Dean laughs at first, until he realizes that Cas gives him his signature 'I'm serious, Dean, I don't know what's going on' face.

"Wait, you've never seen It's a Wonderful Life?" he asks.

Castiel narrows his eyes and tilts head in his usual fashion when he doesn't understand something.

"Cas. Everybody has seen this movie," Dean tells him, completely sobering. "Have you never watched those movie marathons on Christmas eve?"

"No, I don't believe I have."

The older man stares for a second before shaking his head in disbelief. "Where have you _been_ , man? Livin' under a rock?" He sees Cas open his mouth and cuts him off with a quick wave of his hand. "No, no, I know you haven't. Looks like it's just somethin' else I can introduce you to, huh?"

Cas smiles softly. "Yes, I'd like that." However, he turns another piercing gaze at Dean. "But I don't understand what this has to do with Meg calling me Clarence."

"Well, there's an angel in there. Clarence. And you kinda give off that whole angel vibe, so," Dean shrugs, "that's probably where she got it."

"Oh." Castiel turns away from Dean and ponders it for a few moments. Then, he says, "I do not understand why she would think I'm an angel."

"Beats me. Maybe you should ask her," he shrugs. He can kinda see how Meg would get that; Cas swooped down into his life and raised him from the perdition of self-loathing, much like the guardian angel in the movie.

Castiel, however, takes his meaning literally and makes to leave the car. Dean reaches over and grabs onto the sleeve of his coat. "Woah, woah, hold your horses, Cas. I didn't mean right now."

"Oh. My apologies."

Dean is still snickering at him when Jo pops her head in the window and taps on his shoulder. "You two gonna order, or are you gonna keep crackin' jokes and keepin' me waiting?"

"I think we're gonna keep crackin' jokes, if you wanna just sit there and wait for us," Dean tells her, then turns back to Cas. Jo gives off a heavy sigh and punches Dean's shoulder. He snickers and turns back to her. "Cheeseburgers and Coke for the both of us." He looks at the man next to him. "That okay, Cas?"

"Perfect."

He gives Jo his best grin. "We'll have that."

"Two cheeseburgers and two Cokes, comin' right up," she smiles, and then she's off to the next car. No sooner does Jo leave than her place is taken by yet another person: Benny.

Of all the things about Dean, Castiel has found that this is the hardest thing to adjust to. Everyone wants to be around him. People constantly stream in to speak to him, to say hello, to ask him questions, or to simply bask in the presence of the fabled Dean Winchester. It's not that Castiel is jealous; he simply finds it interesting. Though many of his siblings have electric personalities, he's never met anyone who attracts people like flies to a light before. Such is the charm of Dean Winchester.

"Hey, brother," Benny greets him with his dripping-with-molasses accent and a handshake. "We got a group of people over there, if you'd be interested in joinin' us." He peers into the car and nods at Cas. "Invitiation is extended to him, too."

Dean looks over at Cas with the question written in every line of his face: is Castiel okay with going. He gives a short nod, and Dean breaks out into a smile.

"Sure thing, Benny."

Benny claps him on the shoulder and heads out to a group of people that have pushed a few tables together outside The Roadhouse. Following Dean's lead, Cas exits the car, and they head over. He recognizes Benny, Garth, Becky, Meg, Pamela, and Ash, and there are a few people he's seen before but never met.

"Chuck, Adam, and Charlie," Dean whispers to him, nodding to each person in turn. It's an interesting amalgamation of people. Cas really wouldn't have expected half of these people to be able to stand sitting in the same room together, yet here they are, laughing and debating and eating together.

"Cas!" Becky squeals, jumping up to drag him into a hug. "I haven't seen you in _ages!_ "

"I've been a little busy," he tells her sheepishly.

"I heard you moved in with the Winchesters." Becky taps on the arm of the man next to her, Chuck, and squeezes onto the bench next to him and Cas.

"Yes, I did."

"Ooh, that's so exciting!" she exclaims happily. Then, in a conspiratorial tone, she leans forward and asks, "How are things going?"

"They're going well," he tells her, ignoring the questioning glance that Dean is giving him.

Before Becky can say anything else, Chuck puts a hand on her shoulder. When she looks over at him, he removes it immediately, apologizes, then says, "Why, uh, why don't you give him some room to breathe, Becky?"

"Oh!" she exclaims, completely unaware of her overbearing nature. "Sorry, Cas!" However, as she begins to move back to her previous spot, she points at him with a serious look on her face. "But you better come fill me in on how things have been going."

"I will. Soon."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Becky seems to be placated after that, and she sits back down in her place once more. Dean raises his eyebrows in an exasperated expression, but Cas elbows him under the table.

"Ow!" Dean hisses, even though he's grinning.

"Don't be rude."

Dean gives him a sheepish smile, and all he wants to do is duck his head into the crook of Cas's neck and kiss him until the man forgives him, even if Castiel isn't upset in the first place. Their gaze lingers for a few moments longer than is appropriate, but they completely forget about everyone else. Dean just gets sucked into the oceans of Cas's eyes, wanting to drink in their sustaining intensity for years to come.

They only break their stare when Jo sets down their food, muttering about how Dean disappears so many goddamn times in a night that it's impossible to try and find him.

"You know you love me," Dean coos at her. She glares at him and whacks him upside the back of the head before walking away.

Garth snickers. "Oh man, Dean. Gettin' beat up by a girl won't make anybody scared of you."

"Shut up, Garth, she didn't beat me up," Dean mutters, flicking a french fry at the man. Garth weirded him out at first; he's clumsy and dopey and just plain strange, but Garth worms his way into your affections faster than anyone else Dean's ever met, and he's always willing to give you a hand. It's questionable whether or not he has a single negative thought in his head, and Dean's pretty sure that the kid would help him bury a body, if only you could stand him long enough to do it.

Garth just shrugs with an airy smile, returning his attention to the story that he's expounding to Charlie.

"So, Dean," Ash begins in his slow drawl. "Dick Roman's talkin' shit 'bout you and spreadin' it all over the damn place."

"Yeah, that's what Meg said." Dean feigns disinterest and munches on his french fries instead.

"Well? You just gonna take that, Winchester?" the man demands.

Dean shrugs. "Last I checked, runnin' your mouth's got nothin' to do with how good you can race."

"Amen, brother," Benny agrees, tipping his beer in Dean's direction. Dean reciprocates with his own bottle of Coke, and a general murmur of agreement goes up around the table.

"They say he fixed up his car. Figured out a way to make himself unbeatable," Adam butts in, and everyone goes silent as they look to Dean.

"You really believe that crock a' shit?" he asks with a nose wrinkled in disgust. "'Course he's gonna say that. He's gonna go 'round tellin' everyone that he's the best damn thing to grace this earth, tryin' to get me all worked up. And that ain't gonna happen."

Adam decides to voice all of their fears. "What if it's true?"

"It's not."

"Yeah, but what if it is?" he persists.

"Look," Dean begins, abandoning his food for the moment, "Roman's one of those guys who's gotta compensate. I mean, he ain't exactly a looker, and did you _see_ his racing skills?" That gets him a few snickers. "So, no. I'm not worried 'bout him beating me, 'cause it ain't gonna happen. He's gonna cruise in here, makin' a big ol' fuss, and then we'll get to the race, and I'll smoke his ass again."

Ash reaches over to clap Dean on the shoulder, and a few of the men make some whooping noises. Dean just grins and starts eating again, bumping his leg into Cas's beneath the table. He can't help it; talking about racing always gets him excited, even if he tries not to show it, and he has to share that with someone else.

"I don't know about you, Winchester, but I got a bad feelin"g about this one." It's Pam who speaks up this time. She gives him a meaningful look, one that immediately cuts through the clamor and turns it into silence once again.

"Yeah, Sammy said the same thing," Dean says quietly. But then, he puts on his brightest smile and looks back up at the group. "What is this, huh? You guys all losin' confidence in me?"

They all erupt in a chorus of negation and assurances that they still have faith in Dean. Of course they do; they've never known him to do anything but win, and even their bad feelings can't override that.

"Now, c'mon," Dean says, waving his hand to settle them down. "Let's not talk about work at the dinner table."

Cas rolls his eyes at Dean as the man asks for everyone's opinion of a movie he's never seen. Conversation immediately picks up around the topic, effectively taking the focus off of Dean. Becky and Charlie get into a heated debate almost immediately and Dean returns to his burger, but not before giving Cas's leg a quick squeeze under the table.

The two are able to eat in relative peace after that, only being dragged back into the conversation by someone demanding their opinion on a subject to break a tie or prove a point. When they finish their meal, Dean turns to Cas and raises his eyebrows in a silent question. Castiel nods.

"Well, I think we're gonna head out," Dean announces to the group. There's a chorus of "aw c'mon guys" and "stay a while!" and "but we're just getting started!", but Dean shakes his head. "Got some errands to run, and Cas has homework. We'll catch you guys later, though."

They all say their goodbyes, a few hugs are exchanged (namely, Becky needed to hug Castiel and whisper in his ear that they need to talk), and Ash and Benny find it amusing to toss a few french fries at Dean until Ellen shouts for them to knock it off.

"Sorry, ma'am," Ash calls sheepishly, despite the fact that he's still grinning mischievously.

"You better be, boy. Don't think that just 'cause I ain't your mother means I can't whack you one!" Ellen tells him. "And you can wipe that silly little grin off your face, you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am." He turns and ducks his head so that she can't see because he can't stop smiling. And as soon as Ellen turns, he flicks one more french fry at Dean as he and Cas run off to the Coupe.

"Buncha idiots," Dean laughs as he pulls out of The Roadhouse parking lot. He flips everyone off as he goes, then turns his attention back to Castiel.

"They seem like a nice group of people," Cas says, and that's true.

"Yeah, most of 'em are. Couple of 'em can be real dicks when they try, but I guess that goes for anybody," he shrugs.

"Why does Benny call you 'brother'? I thought Sam was your only brother," Cas asks in confusion.

Dean laughs. "I had a real rough time a couple years back. Me n' Sammy got into a fight, and it was hard to cope. But Benny was there, and he helped get me back on my feet. He's kinda like a brother, just not through blood."

"Oh."

"Hey, whattya say about goin' to our spot in the woods? Maybe we can try that thing on the hood of the Coupe?" he asks, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I think we can do that," Castiel agrees. The other man reaches over and slides his fingers in the spaces between Cas's.

Silence falls between them then, and a slow tension builds in the car, but not the tension that they were hoping for. Castiel can feel a small twisting in the pit of his stomach, and it feels suspiciously like anxiety. He doesn't know why he's worried; he knows it's not in conjunction with their most recent plans.

Dean looks at him through the corner of his eye. "You worried about that race with Dick Roman, too?" he asks.

He hit the nail right on the head. Castiel nods sheepishly.

"Why?"

"I don't know. You're a great driver, so I know it's not that. It just... doesn't feel right.""

"Hm." Dean chews his lip. He doesn't know what the hell everyone is worried about. It's not logical that they'd all be so terrified of something that they can't even put a finger on. He wants to roll his eyes at the fact that there's a weight settled in all their stomachs and that they're all worrying themselves sick over it.

The thing is, Dean is worried, too.


	15. Fifteen

Dean knows of a particular way that he can drive into the clearing in the woods and not have to walk the distance. It's a little out of their way, but it's definitely worth it when they get there.

"Whattya say we watch the stars for a while?" Dean asks with a grin.

"I'd love to." It's a clear night, and there's no way that Cas will turn down something like that.

The thing about the Coupe is that the hood really isn't that big. It's not designed for two people to be sharing a hood side by side, but that doesn't dissuade them. Instead, it just encourages some creative cuddling. Dean crawls up onto the hood first and leans against the windshield while Cas takes his place between Dean's legs, pressing his back against the man's chest. Dean wraps his arms around Cas's waist.

"Hi," Dean grins when they get settled. Cas looks up at him.

"Hello," he smiles back, and then they find their lips pressing against one another's. They don't stay like that for very long, because, frankly, it's rather uncomfortable. Instead, they opt for Cas to just lean back against Dean's chest with his head resting just beneath Dean's.

They watch as the stars begin to come out and twinkle against the backdrop of the browning leaves. 

Much of Castiel's family focuses on the big picture, on where they want to be in ten years and how they can make their way there. They define success as being monetarily well-off, following the dream that they think they _should_ follow, not the one that they want to. Cas, on the other hand, has always cared for the little things: the feel of a warm summer breeze, a well-written novel, the feel of a solid body pressed against him while the stars shine above. Such things have always given him a sense of contentment that he doesn't imagine can be reached through any other means.

"Me an' Sammy used to watch the stars all the time," Dean murmurs softly. "No matter where we were, we'd always find some little clearing like this one and hide out from the rest of the world."

He distinctly remembers those moments, and they're some of the best memories he has. As soon as he could drive, he and Sam would take off and just enjoy life every once in a while. That usually just involved the two of them talking on the hood of their dad's car, but any time was welcome.

"That sounds like it was nice," Cas comments.

"Yeah, it was." Dean runs his fingers through Castiel's hair. "Be weird not havin' him around anymore." It's a fact that he can't stop worrying over, but for once in his life, he doesn't want to be negative. So, he turns to the man in his lap and smiles, "But I'll have you."

It's an incredibly sweet notion, and Castiel doesn't know what to say, so he does what he's learned Dean responds to best: he turns around and pulls the man into a gentle liplock.

Dean smiles into the kiss. It's easier for him to deal with physicality. He can control it, can respond to it, can understand it. It's not confusing like dealing with putting his emotions into words and hoping that someone will understand what he means. Why bother when he can sum up thousands of words in one kiss?

Castiel shifts so that he's turned sideways, making it more comfortable for both him and Dean. As soon as he stops fidgeting, he brings his hands up to cup the other man's face.

Dean loses himself in the curving sweeps of Castiel's tongue and wonders the man got so damn good at this. It wasn't so long ago that Cas was fumbling into every touch like the adorable novice he was. He is, however, a pretty damn fast learner. He's picked up all of Dean's little tricks and has adapted them in the ways he finds work best for his situation, and Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to all of the things that their experience would bring them.

Soon enough, he's pulled Cas into his lap, allowing the man to straddle him. Their actions are slow and gentle, but that doesn't mean that they aren't as passionate as they usually are. In fact, the careful drag of their fingertips and lips makes everything that much more intense.

"Fuckin' perfect, Cas. Baby, you're so perfect," Dean gasps out when their lips part for a moment. It's something that Cas loves, the strings of words that come out of Dean's mouth. At one point he may have marked them down as being senseless, but he knows better now. Dean gets lost in the moment, in the touch of skin-on-skin, and his emotions slips through in the form of hushed praises.

Dean begins the slow process of moving them down the hood of the car. Neither of them like the idea of pulling their bodies apart for longer than is absolutely necessary, and even in the heat of the moment, they're both aware of the car beneath them, because neither of them want to damage her in any way.

"I got you," Dean murmurs against Castiel's lips as he lowers their feet to the ground. As soon as they're steady, he turns their bodies around and presses him against the hood of the car.

The older man gets lost in the rhythmic motion of grinding hips and stolen breaths. Cas is beneath him, pressing them together with a fervor. Their actions speed up just slightly when dean pushes the younger man down on his back and settles himself between Cas's spread thighs.

"Please," Cas gasps quiet in a moment when their lips part.

"Please what?"

"Fuck me, Dean, _please_."

Dean chuckles quietly and makes to pull Cas's shirt off. However, Cas shoves his hands away.

"No messing around," he growls. Then, he drags Dean over to him and grinds their hips together. "I want you to fuck me right now."

"Never woulda pegged you as a guy who likes it rough," Dean purrs. The thought turns him on so much that he can do nothing more than start working their jeans open.

"'S that a problem?"

"Definitely not a problem."

Cas kisses him one last time before flipping around. It never fails to amaze Dean how their encounters can turn from intimate to kinky as hell in a matter of moments, but he can't complain, not when a ridiculously attractive man is spread out on the hood of his car.

"Gonna make you come so hard," Dean promises him as he kisses the back of Cas's neck. He wastes no time in pulling Cas's jeans down to his knees and follows suit himself. Then, he fumbles his lube out of his pocket and starts to use it to prep Cas, only to find the man swatting his hands away again.

"Just _fuck me_ , Dean," he groans.

"Don't wanna hurt you." However, Dean is already slicking up his cock.

"You aren't going to break me," Cas states forcefully.

And really, who is Dean to disagree?

Still, he moves slowly when he slides into Cas. He relishes the long, quiet groan that the younger man emits from somewhere low in his throat. It could make Dean come right then and there.

"So fuckin' perfect, Cas. Love hearin' you." Dean drops his forehead against the back of Castiel's neck again. His hand slides up Cas's body until it reaches the man's own and their fingers intertwine.

"Dean?"

He can feel the sound in Cas's throat.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to _move_."

Dean's chuckle is breathless. "Just gimme a sec." Castiel whines, but Dean adds, "You're so damn hot, Cas, and I'm gonna come right now if I move."

"Oh," Cas huffs with a smile.

They stay there for a few short moments before Castiel lets out another quiet white and starts to move his hips. The motions are slow, but goddammit, he needs _something_.

"So eager. Fuckin' love it," Dean grins. He takes his free hand and places it on Cas's hip for stability. His slow, measured movements disintegrate into animalistic thrusts when the man beneath him lets out a soft, breathy moan. For as much as he wants to savor the moment, he can't find the composure to keep from moving faster and harder. And besides, Cas is meeting each one of Dean's thrusts with just as much force, and there's no way the both of them are capable of stopping.

"Dean," Cas moans, drawing the name out to linger in the air for a few seconds.

"What is it, baby?" the man in question asks. He bends down so that he can nip at Cas's earlobe.

"I, I -" The words are cut off in a loud moan, an arching of the back, and a clench of all the muscles that brings out a sense of divine pleasure in Dean. "Right - right there! Don't you dare stop!"

The thought hadn't even crossed his mind.

Dean takes care to position his hips to cater to that one spot that'll bring Cas to his knees. Cas, for his part, can't do a whole lot aside from ride out the white-hot paradise he feels within him. He doesn't realize he's moaning out a constant stream of encouragements until his pauses for a breath.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean groans as he drops his forehead into the crook of Cas's neck. Their thrusts slow steadily until all that's left are the occasional pointed thrusts that take at least four times as long to get from point A to point B. Cas drags Dean in for a kiss. Granted, it's mostly just a lot of licking tongues and biting lips, but it's enough for the both of them. Cas even unclenches his hand from the corner of the hood to pull Dean in closer to him.

They pull back and hold eye contact for a few moments. Cas looks utterly _wrecked_. His messy hair sticks up even more than usual where it isn't plastered to his forehead with sweat, and those big blue eyes are blown wide with pleasure. It seems like the man lets go of his composure more and more every time they fuck, and it drives Dean crazy.

And Dean... God, Cas doesn't know how he got so lucky. He finds himself constantly mesmerized by the green-eyed God who decided to give him the time of day. It doesn't matter that they're in the middle of fucking on the hood of a hot rod; he just gets lost in the depths of those emerald oceans, and it dredges up so much goddamn love that he doesn't know what to do with it all.

The older man's lip quirks up at the corner, and for a moment he looks almost innocent; it's not the kind of smile you give in the middle of sex.

Dean doesn't seem to notice that, however, and he opts instead to bring Cas in for another liplock. It doesn't last long due to the fact that their hips unconsciously begin meeting at a faster pace, and Cas's jaw drops open almost immediately as he starts sucking in deeper breaths again.

"Dean..."

"I got you, Cas. I got you."

Castiel drops his head to the hood of the car with a soft groan at those words, and Dean can't help the smirk that takes over his features at that. He considers it almost an honor to be able to bring such emotions into the man.

"Dean, I'm gonna come," Cas warns him breathlessly.

The man nips gently at the soft skin behind Cas's ear. "Come for me."

Cas slips one hand between his thighs and begins to stroke himself while Dean continues his frantic thrusts. He's about at his wit's end as well.

"Dean!" Cas cries out, his voice hoarse and needy. The sound goes straight to his groin, and it's all he needs to make him come.

Both men collapse for a few moments on top of the car, Dean trying to be as gentle as possible so as to not squish Castiel beneath him. His face is buried in Cas's hair and their fingers are still connected, and it's such an affectionate action that he can't help be almost overwhelmed by it all.

The moment, however, ends when Cas mumbles, "Dean, I think I came on your car."

It's the last thing that he expected to hear, and it makes Dean dissolve into a fit of laughter with Castiel following quickly in his footsteps.

"S'okay, Cas," he says, pressing a chaste kiss against the man's cheek. "Just don't let it dry there."

They disentangle themselves from one another, and Dean uses his shirt to wipe at the front of the car. Both men clothe themselves as best they can in the dark and fumble around until they're hand in hand and body against body.

"Don't think I can drive home," Dean mumbles into Cas's shoulder.

"I don't think we can fit in the Coupe."

"Feel free to tell me I'm a bird-brained idiot, but how about we camp out here tonight," Dean suggests. "We've got blankets and..."

"I'd like that," Cas agrees, and Dean can practically hear the grin in his voice.

They do their best to make a halfway decent bed out of Dean's blankets. It's not spectacular, but the grass in the clearing is still soft, and they're really not in the mood to complain. They just wrap themselves up in one another's arms. Dean can bury his face in Castiel's hair and feel the man's warm breath against his chest. It's a nice assurance that this living, breathing creature is there next to him.

"G'night, Dean," Castiel mumbles.

"'Night, Cas."

"I love you."

Dean's heart stutters in his chest at the words. Sure, he's said them before, but they still scare him shitless, because love isn't something that lasts. Love is fleeting. It worms its way into your life and then destroys it from the inside like a cancerous disease. And he doesn't want to bring that kind of ache down on Castiel.

Castiel is asleep almost immediately, however, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief at not having to make that commitment.

_________

The two of them roll into their home in the morning well into the morning. Sam is already awake and nursing a cup of coffee on the couch as he reads the newspaper. He glances up at them as they stumble in with messy hair, rumpled clothes, and content expressions.

"Should I even ask where you two were last night?" he asks through a sigh.

Dean turns and gives a sly smile to Dean before saying, "We, uh, went on a camping trip."

"A spontaneous one," Castiel adds. However, the fact that they're still wrapped up in one another speaks to something a little more risque.

Sam purses his lips and nods, though his expression says, 'yeah right'. "I hope you two are being careful about where you screw around at."

Dean stops for a moment and looks back at his younger brother with an undefinable expression. "We are, Sammy."

"Just wanna make sure."

The serious moment doesn't defer Dean and Castiel for long. Within moments, they're kissing again and heading toward the showers to wash off the sweat and dirt from the night before.

It's only when they've finished and wander out into the living room hand and hand that they seem to have come down from the high they were riding on. Sam joins the both of them in the kitchen as they go about cooking breakfast together. He sits back and just admires it, because for the first time in a long time, there's a light shining in Dean's eyes, and there's a happiness that radiates off of him in waves. He thinks that there's a very distant familiarity within Dean's gaze, and he can't quite put his finger on it.

Dean squeezes Castiel's hand, and that's when Sam places it.

That's the same expression that Dean has on his face in the old photographs of their family that hang on the walls. Namely, in the one where Sam has just been born, and their mom was still alive.

It almost breaks Sam's heart that it's been so long since Dean has been so happy.

"Hey, Sammy. You want somethin', too?" Dean asks absently.

"Hm? Oh, no. I'm good."

Dean looks over and flicks a shred of cheese at his brother before returning his attention to the food before him. They're only making scrambled eggs, so they're finished a few minutes later and find themselves joining Sam at the kitchen table.

Nobody is talking much when Sam sees his chance. There's no eloquent way he can put it, so he suddenly blurts out, "I'm gonna ask Jess to marry me this weekend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on vacation next week, so there won't be an update.


	16. Sixteen

Both Cas and Dean pause in eating to look at the younger Winchester and actually comprehend his words.

"Run that by me one more time," Dean says.

Sam takes a deep breath. "My anniversary with Jess is this weekend, and I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

He tenses up a little, waiting for what he thinks will be a sudden shitstorm of Dean's wrath for not thinking the whole thing through. Sam nearly squeezes his eyes shut when Dean begins to talk, thinking that he's gonna get a reprimand.

"I'm proud of ya, Sammy," Dean grins as he reaches over to clap his brother on the back. And while, yeah, he's a little upset that he hasn't been consulted about the details yet, he can't hold the thing against Sam. As far as his brother knows, Dean has no interest in marrying, and one might even go as far as to say that he's opposed to it because of the heartache their mother's death caused their father. But Dean, in all honesty, doesn't mind.

"Really?" Sam asks incredulously.

"'Course I am, ya goof." He rolls his eyes and picks his fork back up. A little tension eases from the room, and even Sam finds his body relaxing. "You got a ring picked out yet?"

"Dean, I'm not an idiot. Obviously I have a ring."

"Well? Let's see it," the older man demands, making a grabbing motion with his hand.

Sam fishes the small velvet-covered box from the pocket of his jacket. He hands it over to Castiel and Dean, and both men lean over to see it. It's relatively simple; the ends of the silver band wrap around a small cluster of small garnets with one diamond in the middle. Despite its simplicity, it's a gorgeous piece of jewelery, and Sam must have saved like crazy for it.

"The, uh, the garnets are her birthstone," Sam points out a little awkwardly. He's already been asked by the jewelers why he'd pick something in such a striking shade.

"Jesus, Sammy, did you sell your soul to get this?" Dean laughs as he hands it back.

"Just about," Sam grins back. All of his summer and odd jobs have been dedicated to this purpose. He knows Jess will protest, but he wants her to know that he cares.

"It's beautiful," Castiel assures him, which earns him a semi-awkward smile from Sam.

"So, spill. Where you gonna ask her at?" Dean asks as he shovels a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," the younger Winchester scolds him.

"Don't try to get out of the question."

Sam rolls his eyes. "I'm going to call and make reservations somewhere today."

"Somewhere nice," Dean amends, which is rewarded with a 'well obviously' bitchface from Sam.

"How're you gonna do it? Put the ring in the champagne glass? Wait until dessert and get down on one knee?" the older man asks.

Sam just shrugs. "I think I'll wait until we leave. Go somewhere nice and do it."

Dean nods in agreement at that. They fall into silence for a few moments after that, but eventually Dean says, "Looks like you got everything all figured out, Sammy."

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugs.

"You sound hesitant, Sam," Castiel points out. His voice is soft, but it's enough to startle both other men, as he's been quiet for most of their conversation.

"I'm just... worried."

"About what?" Dean asks, wrinkling his nose.

"What if she says no?"

Dean deadpans. "Sammy, both of you are madly, disgustingly in love with each other, and you've been together for longer than most kids your age. She ain't gonna say no."

"But what if she does, Dean?" the younger man shoots back. "What if she's not ready for the commitment yet? What if she wants to finish college first?"

"You two have been talking about this for a while, Sam. I highly doubt she'll change her mind," Castiel assures him. He knows the emotion that Sam is feeling very well, and he knows that in many cases, it's an unfounded terror. There's no reason why the man should feel so insecure about asking Jess to marry him; everyone knows that they're planning on it. It's just a matter of when someone asks.

Sam looks down at the place where his hands are folded in his lap and shrugs again. "I guess you're right."

"'Course he's right," Dean states with finality. "He's Cas, he knows what he's talking about."

Both Sam and Cas roll their eyes in unison, and Dean can't help but think that, if the two spend too much time together, they'll be an unstoppable force of persuasion. Set the two things Dean loves most in the world before him, and there's no way he can say no to them.

"You made the reservations yet?" Dean asks his brother, ignoring his thoughts as he stands up and collects the dishes from the table.

"Uh..."

Dean turns around and gives a pointed glare in Sam's direction. "Whattya say you go make them? Like, right now?"

"But-"

"No buts. You've obviously got a place in mind, so go," Dean waves him off, then turns around and begins to wash up. "Don't want the place to fill up, do you?"

The younger Winchester rolls his eyes, but he doesn't protest. He simply stands up and heads out to use the phone in the hallway for some more privacy.

Cas ambles over to Dean and slides his arms around the man's waist while resting his chin on Dean's shoulder. He can faintly see the crinkle of the older Winchester's eyes as he smiles.

"Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean."

Dean turns off the water and spins around so that he's pressed chest-to-chest with Cas. He puts his forehead on top of the smaller man's, trying to hide his expression, but Castiel catches it anyway.

"What's the matter, Dean?" he asks.

"Nothin'."

Cas wiggles his way out of the other man's grasp so that he can look into the man's eyes. "I may not be the best with people, Dean, but I don't need eyes to see that something is bothering you."

"Nothin' is bothering me. Promise." He solidifies the statement by pressing a kiss to the younger man's forehead.

Castiel isn't having any of that, though. He doesn't like seeing Dean upset, and if there's anything that he's learned about the man, it's that Dean will sit and stew in his own negativity until a tiny pinprick of an issue swallows him up in an ocean of anger.

He stares the man right in the eyes, and even though Dean won't meet his eyes, Cas places the emotion he's feeling through the set of his jaw and the flicker of sadness in his eyes.

"Are you jealous of Sam?"

Dean's entire body tenses, and Cas knows he's hit the nail on the head. His beliefs are further proved when the man gets defensive, grumbling and protesting, "Hell no! I'm proud of the kid. I ain't jealous."

"I can see it in your eyes, Dean."

They stare each other down for a few long moments. Dean's heated glare is unfaltering for quite a while, but with enough motivation from Castiel, he drops his barriers. Cas can see them fall just before Dean averts his eyes.

"Yeah, well. Can't really blame me for it," he mumbles as he buries his face in Cas's shoulder.

"Mmm," Cas murmurs encouragingly as he strokes Dean's hair. With just the right amount of love and patience, he can coax nearly everything out of the man.

"Always wanted to start a family. Maybe not with all the pansy-ass fanfare like Sammy, but..." Dean heaves a sigh. "It'd just be nice, y'know? Settle down with someone you love, maybe start a family. Thought I got over that stupid fuckin' dream a long time ago, though."

"Why do you need to get over it?"

"I ain't cut out for that kinda life, Cas. There's somethin' under my skin that always keeps me runnin'. This is the first house I've ever had, and sometimes I just feel so damn stir crazy from seein' the same walls all day," the man says. He doesn't straighten out his body, however, so Castiel presses a chaste kiss to the nape of Dean's neck and offers another encouragement.

"What else?"

At that question, Dean's body tenses and stills, and he stays like that for a long while. It begins to feel as though Cas is holding a mannequin as opposed to a living, breathing human being. A shuddering breath wracks through The older man's body, bringing life back into Dean.

"The only person I see myself settlin' down with is you, Cas. And it scares the shit out of me, and I know I can't have it." Finally, he pulls back to look into Castiel's caring blue eyes once again. "We'd have to buy some house way out in the middle o' nowhere, and I'd never get to flaunt you like I wanna. We wouldn't get some stupid little rings to show off to everyone that'd say "hell yeah, I'm taken by the greatest goddamn man in the world". So I guess I'm a little jealous that Sammy gets that shit. But I'm happy for him, and I'm gonna suck it up."

The words break Castiel's heart as he watches them pour from Dean's lips, and he desperately wants nothing more than to kiss those fears away and replace them with assurances that, yes, they'll be able to have those things.

He can't bring himself to say anything, however. Any words like that would be lies. He has no qualms with settling down with the beautiful soul before him, but society would turn up their noses - or worse, raise their fists.

The thing he can do, however, is show that Dean's emotions are reciprocated. Castiel doesn't feel that he's an eloquent man, despite what Dean might say, but he knows that the other man will respond best through a physical statement. He pulls Dean's left hand up to his lips and kisses Dean's ring finger. The gesture stands for something far beyond the simple action itself, and it warms both of their hearts to the point where it feels as though they're on fire. The man lets his lips linger there for a few very long and very intense moments before Dean turns his hand to caress Cas's jaw.

Cas gently places his fingertips on the other man's cheek and pulls him in for a soft kiss. Their lips simply linger together as they share their breaths, but it gets his point across. The tension seems to melt right out of Dean's bones, and when they pull apart, Dean is grinning once again like nothing ever happened.

"Feels like I'm growin' a vagina already," he comments with a laugh as the two untangle their limbs. Dean turns back to the dishes that remain in the sink. "Lookit me, washin' dishes and spoutin' a buncha girly shit like a goddamn housewife."

"A cute housewife," Cas quips with a smile.

"Can it, you," Dean says rather unmenacingly. He flicks a handful of water at the other man. Castiel can't just let that slip by, so he grabs the nearest dishtowel and snaps it across Dean's ass. The high-pitched gasp that it earns him sends Cas into a fit of hysterics that the both of them have never heard before.

"Oh, you ass!" Dean exclaims through a grin. He completely abandons the dishes in the sink and turns his full attention to wrangling a very squirmy Cas into an unmovable position against the cabinets.

"Dean," Cas warns breathlessly as he watches the man's hands slide down to his stomach. "Dean, no!"

"What? You're not ticklish, are ya?" The devilish grin on the man's face is a blatant indicator that he damn well knows the answer to that question.

Cas grasps Dean's hands in his own with a mantra of, "Don't you dare, Dean Winchester, don't you _dare_ ," but his slender fingers are no match for the roughened hands of a mechanic. Within seconds, Dean is tickling Cas, and the man is reacting with a spectacular variety of emotions ranging from angry threats to unrestrained giggling to panting pleas for a cease-fire.

"What? You're gonna give up so soon?" Dean asks over the racket that the other man is causing.

"I'm not giving up - oh, no, no, no, pl _ease_!" Cas's voice trails off into another breathless round of laughter.

"Sure sounds like you're giving up!"

Cas stills Dean's hands, making him capable of delivering one of the most angry, soul-piercing stares that the younger man has ever given anyone. "If you would just play fair-"

"All's fair in love and war," Dean informs him during the next bout of tickling. "And this is definitely both."

Castiel notices that his methods of ending this insanity aren't working. Instead, he goes for the one weakness he knows will make Dean stop: he ducks his head and presses a long, sucking, wet kiss to the underside of the man's jaw.

" _Shit_."

Much to his delight, the results are immediate. Dean's hands flatten out on the hard planes of Cas's stomach as he maps out the terrain he finds there. Cas, for his own part, grabs two fistfuls of Dean's t-shirt and holds the man's lips pressed against his own. They're already in a pretty damn compromising position, considering that Dean had to wedge one knee between Cas's thighs to hold him in face, and now he uses that to his advantage by pressing his thigh into Cas's already hardening groin.

"I think I win," Cas whispers breathlessly against Dean's lips. He feels the smirk before he sees it.

"That's what you think."

Moments later, Castiel finds himself being lifted up onto the counter. He'll admit that he lets out a rather excitable squeak at that, but Dean grabs the back of his head and kisses it right out of his mouth.

Cas wraps his legs around Dean's waist as they battle for dominance. Dean loves the animal that Cas can turn into with almost the flip of a switch. It drives him wild and makes him crave the feel of fingers raking through his hair, nails scraping against his skin, and friction building in every place that matters. He knows that almost everything goes when Cas gets going.

Dean's shirt is almost over his head when the clearing of a throat startles the both of them. Cas yanks his head back so quickly that he whacks it against the cupboard. Shirts fall back into place, hair is patted down, and more respectable positions are taken as the two men turn to face Sam.

"Make-" Dean clears this throat, as it's already husky from the contact. "Make your reservations?"

Sam nods. "Yeah. This weekend. Saturday."

"Cool, cool," Dean nods back.

Sam rubs the back of his head and looks everywhere but at the very obvious erections that both men are sporting.

"So, uh, I'll let you guys..." he motions vaguely at the room, "get back to it then."

"Thanks, Sammy."

"Just... not somewhere I eat or sit or... touch." With that, Sam turns and leaves the room quickly.

Cas and Dean stand there side by side for a few moments before the latter man drops his head in his hands. "That was so embarrassing," he groans. Then, he turns his leech-like grip to Castiel, finding himself strung over the man in a matter of seconds as he withers in shame.

"You'll live," Castiel tells him with a reassuring pat to the head.

"No I won't."

"Shut up, Dean."

The words are so blunt that Dean can't help but snicker and further reinforces why Cas is perfect. He sticks his hands into the man's back pockets with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Well, your mortification certainly doesn't last long," Cas comments. Dean kisses the man's stupid, endearing smile off his face.

"Yeah, well. Thinkin' 'bout you in my bedroom is enough to keep anyone goin'."

And go they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from vacation. Enjoy!


	17. Seventeen

The following day, when Dean and Castiel finally emerge from their nest of blankets to face real life once again. It's always nice to get lost in one another, to take a day off from the harsh lines of humanity in order to revel in the hard lines of their bodies. The only downside is the fact that it makes returning to the everyday that much more difficult.

Dean and Castiel don't quite let one another go throughout breakfast. Sam sits across the table and occasionally eyes the lovers with something that appears to be a subdued concern mixed with joy for the two. No one feels up to actually cooking, so they opt instead for making a mountain of toast and snacking on that alongside their coffee.

"Any plans for today?" Sam asks as if the sight of Castiel practically sitting on Dean's lap is a usual spectacle. In truth, it seems as if it's going to become one.

The two lovers share a look, and Dean shrugs. "I gotta work." He takes a swig of his coffee. "You comin' with, Cas?"

"No," the man says.

Dean looks a little taken aback by that. "Why not? You always come with me."

"I have some homework that needs to be taken care of at the library today," Castiel says with a shrug. The statement holds some truth to it, just enough to keep him from feeling guilty about masking his true intentions.

"Want me to pick you up when you're done?" the older man offers.

Sam snorts. "Do you even know where the library _is_ , Dean?"

"Can it, bitch." Dean flicks a piece of crust at his younger brother. "I know where the freakin' library is."

"When you get lost and have to call me, I wanna hear you tell me I was right."

Dean rolls his his eyes and turns to Castiel. "So, you want me to pick you up?"

"That would be nice, Dean. If I finish early, perhaps I'll stop by the garage."

"That'd be cool." They seal their plans with a gentle kiss that's so damn adorable that Sam has no choice but to make a disgusted noise and avert his eyes. He doesn't miss Dean's middle finger being waved in his direction, however.

When they're able to keep their lips apart, Castiel asks, "What about you, Sam? What are your plans for today?"

"Class with Jess. I'll probably spend some time at her house afterward. Nothin' exciting," the younger Winchester shrugs. "Hey, since we're heading past the library anyway, do you want a ride?"

"That would be great, Sam," Cas agrees, smiling.

"Speaking of, I should probably head off. Bobby's probably gonna skin me alive for callin' in last minute and takin' a personal day," Dean says as he stands up and stretches out his sore muscles.

"Whatever, Dean. You haven't ever missed work. Bobby's probably thanking his lucky stars that he didn't have to see your face yesterday," Sam scoffs. Dean flips him off once again.

"Shut up. Go off with your girlfriend and do your learnin'." It's a lame comeback, and Dean knows it, but he's distracted by the hand that Cas has on the back of his thigh. He ruffles Cas's hair, then leans down to kiss him goodbye. "See you later, Cas."

"Goodbye, Dean."

With a wave at the whole room, Dean makes his exit. Almost as soon as he's gone at a safe distance, they can hear Jess's truck pull into the driveway.

"Ready?" Sam asks with an excited grin.

"I suppose." Despite his attempt to be nonchalant, Cas is nearly brimming with excitement.

They both jump up from the table, grab their respective bags, and hurry out the door as fast as they can without running. Jess is letting her truck idle in the driveway, and she, too, is bearing a huge grin.

"Hey, Cas!" she exclaims as he and Sam pile into the car, Sam in the front and Cas in the cramped backseat.

"Hello, Jessica. It's been far too long," he greets her. In response, she turns around and drags the man into a hug.

"Just call me Jess, okay?"

"Okay."

Jess puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the driveway, catching Castiel's eye in the rearview mirror as she does. "So, are you excited or what? Oh- do you know the size of Dean's finger? It might be hard if you don't."

"I have one of his rings." Cas holds up the ring he swiped from the nightstand that morning. He feels a little bad for doing so, but it isn't as if he's actually stealing. It's for a good cause.

"Woah. That's actually a really good idea," Sam says.

Jess eyes Sam with a smile lighting up her face. "Yeah, Romeo, if you'd have done that, maybe my ring wouldn't have been hanging off my finger when you tried to put it on."

"It wasn't that bad." The blush deepening Sam's cheeks, however, tells a different story.

"It won't be so bad once we get it fitted," she says brightly, patting Sam's shoulder.

Sam rolls his eyes, but he reaches over to hold Jess's hand. It makes Castiel feel that secondhand happiness that comes from seeing someone else in a stupidly blissful and sappy romance, but it's paired with that jealousy that reminds him that he'll never stop worrying about how others will react to _his_ stupidly blissful and sappy romance.

It's a little awkward after that because no one is quite familiar enough to make conversation, and Jess and Sam don't want to be rude to Castiel, so Jess asks if anyone would be opposed to her turning on the radio. When they tell her to go ahead, she cranks it on a local station. Sam and Jess belt out one of Billy Haley & His Comets's hits together until they make it to the small jewelry store in town.

"All right, Cas. We're here!" Jess exclaims. She parks the car and turns around to the backseat to smile.

"Thank you for the ride, Jess. And for helping me with this, Sam. It means a lot to me," Cas says sincerely. He makes to leave, but Sam reaches over with one quick exclamation of "wait!" and holds onto his arm.

"Cas, I just... I think I should just warn you about Dean," Sam says in a rush.

Castiel's heart sinks. So many people have warned him about Dean and have tried to tell him what's good for him. He was hoping that the people closest to Dean, the ones who actually know him, might have something better to say.

"It's nothing-" Sam cuts himself off with a wave of his hand. "Just let me explain, okay?

"Dean is... he's almost kind of allergic to commitment. He's only had a few kinda-serious relationships in his life, and most of them haven't ended well for him. So it makes him scared to trust people. You and him seem to get along real well, though, and it seems like he's willing to make some changes for you. I just don't want you to be surprised if he... gets distant for a while."

"He won't be gone long, though," Jess chimes in.

"Dean really, really likes you, Cas. I've never seen him get this close to anyone outside of family, 'side from Bobby," Sam assures him. "He _will_ come back. He just might get a little freaked out if he thinks about commitment as a concept instead of as a reality."

Castiel, for his part, doesn't particularly understand the difference between committment as a reality and a concept, other than reality is just the concept applied. But he nods as though he knows the meaning behind Sam's riddles, and the younger Winchester grins at him and claps him on the shoulder.

"Go get 'em, Cas."

They exchange goodbyes as a formality, and then Cas takes his leave of Jess's car, watching as it pulls away.

When Cas walks into the jewelery shop, he isn't quite sure what to expect. The last time he set foot in one was about ten years ago, when Zachariah had been burdened with the task of babysitting the younger Novaks but still wanted to go out and buy something nice for his then-girlfriend's birthday. All in all, Blake's Jewels surely isn't as intimidating as it seems once you get past its very formal exterior.

"Is there something I can help you with?" the girl at the counter asks. Castiel abruptly notes that she's what people would easily peg as beautiful: long and curly brown hair, perfectly applied cat eyeliner and red lips, an a smile that magnifies her every already wonderful feature by hundreds of times. Her nametag labels her as Sarah.

"I'd like to purchase a ring for my friend," he tells her.

Sarah's smile brightens. "What sort of occasion is it for? Engagement or -"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Castiel cuts in hurriedly. "My friend is male. It's a graduation gift." He's proud of the lie that he's crafted. It easily shifts the blatant suspicion away from him.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to assume," Sarah apologizes. A soft pink blush tints her cheeks with the signs of embarrassment. "Anyway, is there something special you had in mind?"

"I'd just like something simple. Not boring, of course, but my friend is not one for embellishments."

"Right over here we have our selection of men's rings." She leads Cas over to a glass-topped case. "They're mostly engagement rings, but I'm sure they could easily double as a graduation gift. If you need anything else or want to see something out of the case, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you."

With that, Sarah returns to her previous post. Cas hardly notices; he's already inspecting the selection of rings before him. He makes sure he looks at each one in detail, but one stands out immediately, and it continues to hold his attention. In reality, it's not much, but Cas knows that that's just what Dean would like. It's a simple silver band with a thinner black band wrapped around it. Perfect.

"Excuse me," Castiel says quietly. Sarah glances up at him. "I have a ring that I'd like to purchase."

"Already?" she asks with a grin, but once he shows her what he has picked out, she sobers up. "You made a great choice. This one is one of our more durable pieces. It's great for a graduate." She looks over at Cas. "Do you know what size you need?"

Cas pulls out Dean's simple silver ring and hands it over. "I believe that this is the proper size.

Sarah takes the ring, donning a slightly-awed smile. "Y'know, I don't think many other people have ever given me another ring as measurement. It's a good idea. Let me go see if we have this size in stock." She leaves him standing at the counter as she retreats into the storage room for a few minutes. When she returns with a small box, Cas breathes a sigh of relief at having it in stock, and he accepts the box as well as Dean's silver band with open hands. "This should be the right size. If you could just check to see if it's to your liking..."

Cas nods in thanks and compares the two rings. They're almost an exact match as far as size is concerned.

"Graduation season is a little far off, isn't it?" Sarah asks out of the blue. It startles Castiel for a few moments, as he hadn't anticipated the question.

"He's a college student, and he started a semester late," he lies smoothly. "It's one of the valuable life lessons he's learned in his time with Dean.

"Ah," Sarah nods in understanding. "Anyone I know?"

Cas shakes his head. "He's a friend from my old hometown." He hands Sarah the box with the new ring and pockets Dean's old one.

"Are you all set, or can I get you anything else?" she asks.

"I believe I'm finished, thank you."

She rings up Castiel's purchase, and even though he spends a good chunk of his savings on the ring, he knows it's worth it. There aren't many ways that he can outwardly express his love for Dean, and he doesn't mind going the extra mile to do so. Dean may act humble upon receiving it, but Cas knows the man will be inwardly thrilled.

____________

The upcoming weekend is Sam and Jess's anniversary, and it's also what has been termed D-Day.

Sam is nervous as hell when he begins the adventure of getting ready for his date with Jess. He even calls Cas and Dean into his room to guide him through it because almost every simple decision is magnified by a thousand. Even the simple decision of which suit jacket to wear (and Sam doesn't have many of them) becomes something near an existential crisis.

After they give Sam a snack and calm him down, Dean and Castiel take a seat on Sam's bed and give him their opinion on each of the outfits he picks out.

"Oh my god, I'm going to pass out," he mutters as he fumbles with his tie in the mirror. Dean dramatically rolls his eyes and ambles over. He swats Sam's hands away and fixes the tie himself.

"You're not gonna pass out. You're gonna go to dinner, and you're gonna get down on one knee, and you're gonna ask Jess to marry you," Dean tells him as he straightens out Sam's dress shirt. "And then you're gonna have a wedding where everyone cries, and you'll have a bunch of disgustingly cute kids."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam mutters, but he can't help smiling. He already feels calmer by just having Dean there and talking him through this. He's never really been sure how Dean would react to his marriage plans, but so far, everything has been going smoothly.

"You're lookin' pretty slick, Sammy," Dean says when he takes a step back to admire his younger brother. And he does; Sam hardly ever has an excuse to get dressed up - hell, Dean doesn't think he owned a suit until after Dad died - but the kid works the damn thing like it's nobody's business. 

Sam punches Dean on the shoulder, smiling all the while. He might have a swarm of butterflies throwing a wild party in his stomach, but he's never been so happy before in his life. All the people he loves and cares for in the world are here with him or will join him later. Even Cas is becoming a constant fixture in Sam's life, one upon whom he looks with fondness and friendship.

"What do you think, Cas?" Sam asks suddenly, turning to the other man to model his outfit. Cas is a little taken aback, as he hadn't been expecting an outward request for his opinion, but it only takes him a moment to recover.

"I think that you've made a fine choice, Sam. Jess won't be able to say no, though I'm sure the thought never crossed her mind."

Sam stares at him for a second before his smile widens and he laughs. "Yeah... yeah, I guess."

"Aw, c'mon, Sammy! Don't doubt yourself. You look like an actor from one of those action pictures, all suave and shit," Dean butts in. It earns a dramatic eye roll from Sam as the man turns to fix his hair in the mirror. As he does, a knocking sounds at the front door.

"Oh, shit," the younger Winchester mutters in anxiety, knowing that this means Jess is here.

"I'll go tell her you're still primpin' and preenin'," Dean smiles as he ducks out of the door before his brother can do anything about it aside from call his name in annoyance. It forces him to get finish smoothing down his hair in a hurry, allowing him and Cas to chase after Dean a moment later.

The man has only had time to open the door and invite Jess in when Sam rushes out, but he stops almost as soon as he sees her. She's donning a white halter dress with her hair curled and pinned back just a little bit. She looks absolutely radiant, and it takes a few moments before anyone feels qualified to speak.

"Jess..." Sam murmurs as he walks up to her, "you look so beautiful."

She only has time to smile before he leans down and pulls her into a sweeping kiss. It lasts long enough that the rest of the room gets a little awkward, and Dean clears his throat loudly to surprise the two of them.

"Sorry," Jess laughs a little breathlessly as she offers a sheepish smile to both Dean and Castiel.

"No worries, just save the face-sucking until we're a safe distance away," Dean tells them, holding open the door. "Now you kids better get goin'. Don't wanna be late for your reservation or... however that works."

Everyone exchanges their goodbyes with smiles on their faces. Dean throws a thumbs up to his brother when Jess turns her back, and Sam responds by grabbing the door and slamming it shut before his brother can shout anything vulgar.

And just like that, Dean and Cas are left to their own devices. They're both happy for Sam and Jess, but they're also excited for the alone time that the date gives them, and they've made plans of their own.

"Wanna head out right now?" Dean asks after he waves Jess and Sam down the street.

"We have to prepare to leave first."

"Well duh. Not gonna leave without the food," the older man laughs. He grabs Cas's hips and pulls him forward so that their foreheads are touching. Dean grins and pecks Cas. "Whattya got on the menu?"

"Come help me and you'll find out," Cas says coyly, slipping easily from Dean's grasp. He heads for the kitchen and ignores the kicked-puppy murmurs of protest that come from Dean's general direction.

"That's no fair!" he calls as he chases behind Cas.

"Neither is making me do all the work." He doesn't offer any more explanation, and even though Dean grumbles about having to do _work_ on their date night, he follows after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this a day early, since I won't have internet access tomorrow.


	18. Eighteen

As it turns out, Dean has to do more work than Cas when it comes to packing their dinner because he realizes that they don't have a picnic basket, and for some reason, he insists that "we _need it_ Cas. You can't have a picnic without a freakin' picnic basket. Everyone knows that."

And despite the fact that Castiel insists he's perfectly fine with packing up a normal backpack or simply holding onto the food, Dean isn't having any of it, and he heads out in the Coupe to make a quick stop at the nearest grocery store in hopes of finding a picnic basket while Cas stays home and gets everything else around.

Cas has never really tried his hand at cooking before, but he feels that it's necessary tonight. After all, he plans on giving Dean the ring that he's purchased for him, so he wants to do something more than just ordering a hamburger at The Roadhouse. He settled for making the crazy sandwich concoctions that he and Gabriel hand-crafted as children. In this case, Cas has chosen to make them out of the leftover chicken he made the night prior and tops his with a variety of vegetables, so many that Dean claims it's "basically a salad in between two slices of bread". Due to that, Dean's is still a little more plain, but Cas won't let him get away with just having chicken and bread. To top that off, he also makes the homemade french fries that Lucius made when they were kids.

Due to that, the only thing that he really _cooked_ was an apple pie. He was at a loss when he consulted the cookbook that sits in the Winchester family bookshelf, so much so that he was forced to take an emergency trip to The Roadhouse to ask Ellen how to cook. The best thing about the Harvelles is that they don't ask any unnecessary questions, even when their curiosity is getting the best of them. She guided him through the process of making pie crust and filling and sets him on his way with a phone number to call in case he has trouble. Thankfully, her instructions are so complete that he doesn't have to use it.

Cas isn't quite sure if what he's made is edible, but he knows Dean isn't one to turn down food, so he's not particularly worried that it'll ruin the night. The man, if anything, will be more touched by the effort than the actual turnout.

When Dean returns home, he enters the kitchen with the most serious face Cas has ever seen him don and drops an honest-to-god picnic basket down on the counter.

"You will not believe the things I had to do to get this," he states seriously.

Cas looks up at him, brow furrowed in confusion. "What did you have to do?"

"Nobody - freakin' _nobody_ \- sells picnic baskets this time of year, and I don't know why, 'cause the weather is still just fine," he begins with a hell of a lot of emotion. "So I get to the store and ask if they've got anything left, and of course, they don't, but the manager is this little old lady who's too damn nice for her own good, and she spent ages trackin' down a basket, but then _of course_ someone else walks in there and decides that they want one, too." Dean cuts off his statement and leans against the counter, trying to collect himself because, after all, Dean Winchester does not get upset over such trivial things. "It was dumb 's all."

Cas is watching Dean tell his story with amusement, because he can tell that Dean wants this to be perfect, and it's endearing just how much thought he's put into the night. Dean eyes him curiously. "What're you grinnin' 'bout?"

"You never fail to amaze me, Dean Winchester," Cas tells him as he reaches over and pulls the man into a kiss. Dean barely has time to scoff before they're mouth-on-mouth, but Cas decides that he can forgive the man for that.

When they pull away, Dean grumbles a bit, but he really doesn't have much that he can complain about, not when he has Cas hunting for every possible way to make some sort of contact as they pack their basket for the night.

They make small talk and crack jokes all the way to their special clearing in the forest, the destination for their scheduled picnic. Dean parks the Coupe on the side of the road, choosing not to drive her through the forest again and risk scratching her. It's a damn nice day, though, and neither of the men mind walking. The sun is shining in its late October glory, lighting up all the trees and keeping the earth warm for the two of them. And Cas has to admit, the meadow looks absolutely breathtaking in the golden light. It feels as though he's seeing it again for the first time, like he's sneaking here and kissing Dean before anything could bring them down.

"'S pretty great, right?" Dean asks with a grin as he plops down at one of the boulders. He sets the picnic basket on top, as he'd insisted he carry everything, including their blankets.

Cas takes a seat next to Dean, their bodies pressed flush together. "It's beautiful."

"I, uh... I think it's real nice that we get to do stuff like this," the man states with a finality that says he doesn't feel comfortable discussing the matter in detail. But that's just Dean, still too uncomfortable to talk about his feelings, even though he's in the middle of a committed relationship.

Before Castiel has a chance to respond, Dean starts to unload their basket onto the boulder. As he does so, his brow furrows in confusion, and he turns to the man next to him. "Cas, did you make all this?"

"Mhm," he hums absently as he removes the plastic wrap from the food. "Who did you think made it?"

"Well, I didn't know. Thought maybe you picked it up somewhere or somethin'." He shakes his head. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Don't speak too soon, Dean. I've yet to determine the edibility of the meal," Cas tells the man gravely. Then, he hands Dean his sandwich.

Dean takes it without much fanfare. "I honestly doubt you could fuck anything up, Cas."

At that, the younger man huffs, but he doesn't say much more than, "Eat your sandwich and be quiet."

"'M just sayin', now that I know you can cook, I won't keep forcin' Sammy to make his god-awful food."

Castiel rolls his eyes and digs in to his own sandwich. As far as he's concerned, it's not too bad, but then again, he's never really known what qualifies as being a top-notch meal due to a childhood spent eating his siblings' experiments. However, with the way Dean's eyes light up and the noise of pleasure he makes, Cas can assume that he enjoys it.

"Jesus, Cas, this is really good," he exclaims through a mouthful of food.

"Please. It's nothing more than a sandwich."

"A damn _good_ sandwich."

Despite his best efforts, Cas can't help but feel pleased at the compliment.

They eat in relative silence after that, as Dean is too occupied with food to make conversation. He devours a good share of the pie in moments and only refrains from eating the rest of it because, as he laments, "Cas, I'm gonna dieeeee," as he falls backward into the grass.

"Self-restraint is a wonderful thing."

Dean groans loudly, covering his face with the crook of his elbow. "You're spending too much time with Sam." And then, because he's a man of extremes, he leaps up, wraps an arm around Cas's waist, and drags the man down onto the grass with him in one quick motion. Cas lets out a rather embarrassing squeal of surprise as the man does so, and it sends Dean into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that's so heartfelt and raucous that it echoes through the trees and scares away the birds nesting in the trees nearby.

"Shut up, Dean."

"Never."

They stay there long after their giggles have subsided, with Cas next to Dean as they stare up into the shapes of the clouds and at the tops of the trees. It's then that the younger man states, "Dean, there's something I would like to tell you."

Dean turns and looks at Cas, concern suddenly lining his brow. "What is it, Cas? Somethin' wrong?"

"No, it's nothing like that. Please don't worry yourself." Castiel takes a steadying breath and turns his eyes from the clouds, opting for the grounding sight of Dean Winchester instead. "You are singlehandedly the most wonderfu-"

"Aw, hell-"

"Shh, don't interrupt. It's rude." Cas places a finger over Dean's lips, and they seem to automatically curl into a smile. "As I was saying, you are easily the first person in my life to actually startle me from a state of existence to one of living. And though we may be moving quicker than a traditional couple, I feel as though we have just cause.

"I... I know that we can't get married. I'm not sure married life would suit us, anyway. We cannot even tell some of our closest friends lest we fear the undeniable consequences. However, I... have something I'd like to give you anyway. You wear Sam's amulet quite frequently, and I thought to give you something, too."

As he finishes his words, Cas reaches into his pocket and removes the ring, handing it over to the other man. Dean takes it with eyes wide with some emotion that Cas can't seem to place. Without dragging his eyes from the small piece of jewelery that he holds in his hands, he sits up so that his expression becomes hidden from view. In that moment, he feels his heart quicken its pace, but he says nothing for fear of hearing actual words of rejection come from the man he loves. He hopes that he's not moving too quickly, that perhaps Dean isn't quite ready to wear such an outward expression of commitment.

Cas sits up when Dean shakes his head, but he finds the man smiling.

"Goddammit," Dean grins, and despite the look of pure happiness on the man's face, Cas still can't help to feel put off.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

"Jesus - _no_ , Cas. You just beat me to it is all," he laughs. Dean pulls a necklace off from around his neck, this one with a small silver band on it. It's not as clean cut as the one that Castiel purchased, but it's beautiful nonetheless, and he's mesmerized as it's lowered into his hands.

"Dean..."

"Yeah, yeah. With Sammy proposin' and all, I wanted to do somethin' nice for you. Didn't like any of the rings in the stores, though, so I just made one myself."

Cas furrows his brow. "You know how to make jewelry?"

"Well... not really," Dean admits, scratching the back of his head. "Dad... he liked to make his own bullets for hunting. Making a ring kinda goes along the same principles. 'Lot harder, though."

"That's amazing, Dean," Cas says as he slides the ring onto his finger.

"Aw, shuddup." If the blush on his cheeks is anything to go by, however, Dean is quite flattered, and he hides his face by putting his new ring onto his necklace so that it hangs around the amulet that Sam bought for him years ago. "Hardest part was figurin' out how to get the right size for your finger."

Cas smiles up at him, a little confused. "How'd you do it?"

"Waited until you were sleeping and wrapped some string 'round it." He pauses, as if he doesn't want to disclose anything else but then says, "Got the wrong finger on the first try, and goddamn, I felt so dumb havin' to go try it again."

There is really nothing that Cas can think to say that would accurately express how damn endearing that is without sounding condescending, so he just grins and leans over to press a kiss to Dean's lips. "I love you," he breathes on the air of a laugh.

"Sounds like you had a different plan of action."

"That's because I did."

"How'd you figure out my ring size then, Mr. Smartypants?" Dean asks teasingly.

"I borrowed one of your rings and made sure the one I bought was correct."

Dean pauses and looks Cas dead in the eyes for a few long moments, as if he's absorbing the information for the first time. Then, he bursts out, "Goddammit! Why didn't I think of that?"

Cas allows a snicker to slip through his lips despite his best efforts, and he quiets it by burying his forehead in Dean's neck to press a kiss there. It's one of Dean's biggest weaknesses; within seconds, he's pulled Cas's shirt out from the place where it was tucked into his jeans, and his hands are wandering the warm skin of Cas's back. They fumble their rings onto their fingers quickly so as to not lose them in the inevitable actions that are to follow.

"I love you, Dean. Thank you," Cas whispers against Dean's lips when he finds it in himself to drag his kisses away from the area that is causing Dean to buck his hips wildly into the other man's.

He gets an "mmph" in response from Dean that he takes to mean an acceptance of his thanks and a reciprocation of his words. He doesn't care too much to dwell on it, not when his own hands are working open Dean's blue jeans to get at the hardening flesh beneath.

Pretty soon, Dean flips Cas over onto his back. The thrill of being so out in the open is getting to the both of them, and it's driving Dean wild, the thought that Cas, the guy he once assumed to be nothing but a mild bookworm, has a bit of an exhibitionist streak in him. 

They both push any worries they may have of being caught to the back of their mind, mainly because they can think of nothing but the body of the man before him. Dean slides down Cas's chest until the front of the man's jeans sits before him. Within seconds, he has them unzipped and yanked down past the man's knees.

"God, I wanna keep you here all damn night," Dean mumbles as he mouths at Cas's erection through his underwear. "Wanna take my time with you, make you come before I even get my cock in you."

"D- _Dean_." The word slips, almost unheard, on the breath of a soft moan while his fingers card through Dean's hair.

"I know, baby, I know. But we gotta be quick tonight. Can't let anyone see." He drops a soft kiss on the skin just below Cas's navel, lingering there for a brief moment in order to breathe in the scent of the man's skin, to feel his body heat and know that his deepest desires have come true in the personification of Castiel Novak. Here is a man who is aesthetically pleasing, intelligent, also gay, and, most incredibly, shares the attraction that Dean feels toward him, who has, in fact, just planned out a date with the specific intent of giving him a ring to symbolize the fact that they love each other, and who is whispering Dean's name over and over like it's the name of God gracing his lips.

So, yes, Dean feels that he's earned that moment of reverence, even if they are worried about being caught.

"Dean, please." The words stumble awkwardly out of Cas's lips and are the most beautiful thing Dean has heard. He finds himself being tugged upward as the man continues, "Please, please, _please_."

A wicked grin spreads over Dean's face as he ducks down to nip at Cas's lips. As he does, he pulls down both Cas's underwear as well as his own jeans. The fact that they haven't actually rid themselves of their clothes makes their motions a bit awkward, but after a few seconds, they both seem to adjust.

"Need me to get lube?" Dean asks against the other man's lips.

"N-no," Cas breathes. "Just go slow at first."

Dean goes as slow as he can manage, and he deserves an award for how much self control he musters up, because the soft moan being ripped from Cas's throat makes Dean want to ravage the man right then and there.

Once he's buried completely inside of Cas, Dean drops his forehead on the man's shoulder. They're both already panting, and Dean is pleading, "I need you, Cas, baby, baby, I need you so bad."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

It's the only prompting Dean needs. With one hand on Cas's hip and the other gripping Cas's hand, he begins to thrust slowly. For once in his life, Dean finds that he doesn't want to take things as fast as possible. Instead, he wants to relish each slow grind of his hips, each gentle cry that he kisses right out of Cas's mouth, each tightening of Cas's fingers as he hits the man's sweet spot. He wants to watch the way Cas squeezes his eyes shut for just one brief moment when pleasure overtakes him only to regain eye contact after one frantic beat of the heart, leaving Dean feeling like he's drowning in oceans and summer skies and sapphires. He wants to watch Cas pant and sweat and tense and _feel_.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Cas whispers as if it's the only word consuming his consciousness.

"I'm here baby. I got you. Not gonna let you go," he promises, and he doesn't. Dean and Cas are pressed so tightly together that you couldn't find space between them if you tried. As their movements pick up in pace, Dean drops his forehead to Castiel's, and they hold their intimate staring contest from that vantage point.

As heat builds up in Dean's stomach, he begins to grind into Cas more than he does thrust, which earns him a long, low moan from somewhere within the other man's chest. It takes Cas a few tries before he can choke out, "So close, Dean."

Dean himself is too far gone to even articulate words, and with one more clench of Cas's body, Dean comes while groaning out Cas's name. He's seeing stars, but he fumbles his way to Cas's cock and begins to stroke it nonetheless. He feels the man arch his back off the ground, gasping senseless pleas before he, too, comes soundlessly, his mouth hanging open and waiting for words that he's too overwhelmed to make.

Cas reaches up and pulls Dean into a frantic, breathless, and frankly sloppy kiss. They don't have enough air in their lungs for it to be more than just a brief entanglement of their tongues that shouldn't be as hot as it is.

And when they finish, neither of them can find words, so Dean rolls off of Cas to keep from squishing him, and they both stare up at the clouds as they roll across the dark sky, their jeans still shoved down around their knees and come still staining their t-shirts. Anyone could stumble over them, but for a few minutes, they can't be bothered to worry about that.

"You're so damn perfect, Cas," Dean murmurs, finally breaking the silence. He turns to give the man his best goofy grin, and it's so contagious that Cas catches it, too.

"You're not so bad yourself."

"Awh, shuddup." Dean playfully pushes Cas's arm, but it doesn't hold much conviction, as most of his body feels like it's been reduced to jelly.

The other man just smiles again and suggests, "I believe it'd be a good idea to cover ourselves and clean up."

Dean groans. "I don't wanna move. Just stay here with me, Cas, huh?"

"I would love to," he begins as he stands up, "but it would not bode well for either of us if we were caught in the act out here. Again."

And though he grumbles and moans, Dean follows Cas's lead. The both yank their jeans up to appropriate levels once more, and it's now that Dean spots the reminder of Cas's orgasm staining his t-shirt as the man loads the remnants of their dinner into their picnic basket.

"Man," he sighs dejectedly. "Cas, we're gonna hafta start strippin' all the way. I ain't gonna have any clothes left to wear."

Cas turns and looks at him with the most serious glance and states, "I wouldn't mind."

Dean just about chokes at the simple way the man says it, and it takes him several long moments before he can even splutter out, "Yeah, well. Guess it'd give us a reason to stay in bed all day, huh?"

"If only." Smiling, Cas hands Dean their blankets, and the man finds another rock on which he can fold them.

"Can you imagine," he calls over to Cas. "I'd call up Bobby; 'hey, yeah, can't make it into work today. Cas came on all my clothes so I'll just stay home'."

"Sam would be absolutely thrilled."

The older man can't help laughing at that; to be fair, imagining a constantly-disturbed Sam is comedy gold. Even Cas finds it hilarious, and the both of them, hand in hand, giggle their way through the forest and into the front seat of the car, where Cas wiggles under Dean's arm and rests his head against the man's chest.

"Maybe one day," Dean sighs on the tail-end of his final laugh. He cards a hand through Cas's hair, then starts the car. "We could retire together. Get some cabin out in the middle a' nowhere and just walk around naked all day."

"That would be wonderful." Cas's voice is already heavy with an exhaustion that Dean himself is feeling.

"Hey." He pokes Cas's side gently. "Don't you go fallin' asleep on me. I gotta have someone keep me up on the way home."

They find mindless things to talk about on the way home: the book Cas just finished, why Dean really digs jazz music even though he won't admit it to anyone else, how Sam just charms the pants off of all the old ladies while their husbands scold him for his long hair. By the time they get home, they're both yawning so much that it's hard to talk. They drag in all of the things they brought to their picnic and shed their clothes like skin once they get into the bedroom, because, as Dean mumbles, "Don't want Sammy to pitch a fit 'bout clothes on the floor again."

Clad in nothing but one another, Dean and Cas crawl into bed together. Dean thinks that it was easily the best damn sleep of his life.

__________

Unfortunately, that sleep is interrupted by a sharp knock on the bedroom door, followed by the entrance of one Sam Winchester within the blink of an eye. Both Dean and Cas are startled out of their dreams, and Dean has just enough time to shout, "Jesus!" as he frantically tries to reposition the blankets so that at least Cas is covered.

Despite his excited flurry, Sam still covers his eyes and cries, "Oh, God, I should have waited! Are you two decent?"

"We are now, Sammy," his older brother grumbles. "The hell do you want?"

The two men on the bed can't be bothered to do much more than cover themselves, so they're still tangled up in one another with wild hair and the bruises from their hands and sucked kisses littering their skin.

"I'm gonna ignore that you're naked," he tells them.

"Yeah, okay, get to the point."

"Jess said yes," Sam spits out in a breath, his grin so damn wide that it almost makes it difficult to understand his words.

And, even for all of his nakedness and forced awakedness, Dean smiles. "That's great, Sammy! I knew she couldn't turn down a stud like you."

"Can it, Dean." Sam rolls his eyes.

"Naw, it's real great, though. I'm happy for you two."

"As am I," Cas adds with sincerity, his voice still rough with sleep.

"Thanks, guys," Sam grins. He's far too happy to even be slightly put off by Cas's intrinsic formality.

"Where's the lucky lady?" the older man asks Sam as he rubs sleep from his eyes.

"Here!" Jess exclaims, popping up behind Sam. She doesn't bat an eyelash at Dean and Cas's nakedness. Instead, she waves at them cheerily, and the two men respond with the most energy they can so early in the morning. "We're actually heading to buy our house today. My parents are on board, and they're heading out with us soon."

"Gee, that's great, you guys." Dean can't find any other words, so he merely echoes what he said before. That's the result of a mix of his still-muddled brain and the flood of abandonment that Sam's leaving is causing him.

"You two need to come see the place. It's real cute. Even has a white picket fence," she muses, a loving look in her eyes as she looks at Sam. It almost makes Dean feel guilty for wanting to keep his little brother all to himself.

"Bet we'll spend a lotta time there helpin' you two get settled in, huh?"

"Oh, sure. We'll need as many tough guys as possible to cart all our shit in there," Jess laughs.

"Anyway, we should probably get goin'." Sam trails off and makes to leave, but Jess stops him by grabbing onto his arm.

"Wait!" She turns to Dean and Cas, flashing them a bright smile. "How was your night?"

Dean, still squinting at the light from the door, gives them a thumbs-up. "Wild."

"I can see that," Sam mutters, just loud enough to make sure that Dean can hear him.

"I'd throw a pillow at ya, but I'm not riskin' my comfort for your sorry ass," Dean informs him. "Now get the hell outta here, Sammy. And Jess, have a lovely day."

Jess laughs while Sam pouts, and they both exclaim, "We're real happy for you two!" as they make their leave. As soon as the door shuts, Dean collapses back into Cas's waiting arms and snuggles into his neck.

"Do we have to get out of bed today?" he groans into the other man's warm skin.

Cas runs his fingers through Dean's hair. "I don't see why we'd need to."

"You're perfect." His grin is so damn wide that Cas can feel it, even with Dean's face hidden from sight.

Cas, for his own part, just hums and kisses the top of Dean's head. It's nice, that for a while, it can be just the two of them, that the judgmental world beyond their bedroom door can dissolved into the warmth that they share between them. They may not be the two most fortunate men on earth, but they have each other, and even that is far more than they could have ever asked for.


	19. Nineteen

Castiel finds solace in praying.

It takes a long time for Dean to notice, because Cas doesn't pray like Dean has seen other people pray. He doesn't get down on his knees at the foot of a bed or clasp his hands. Hell, he's never even gone to church. No, Cas simply has moments where he pauses whatever he's doing and shuts his eyes for a few moments or turns his gaze upward to the ceiling.

Dean notices it, oddly enough, while he's working on his baby in the garage on the day that Sam has planned to move out, mainly because he can't stomach to see his baby brother go just yet. He has something he wants to say to Cas, so he turns and catches the man staring intensely at the ceiling. Confused, Dean asks, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Praying," Cas says as though it's the most natural thing in the world.

The older man puts down the wrench he's been holding. "You pray?"

"Of course," Cas responds. He turns his eyes to Dean. "You didn't know that?"

"No. You never said, and you don't go to church, so..." Dean shrugs, hoping he doesn't sound too stupid.

"I don't agree with the doctrines of one particular church, nor does my concept of God fall in with the way any one religion teaches it. Yes, I feel there's a higher power, but I do not use it to define myself or to control my actions. Or, as we've both witnessed firsthand, as an excuse for violence."

"Huh," Dean murmurs, staring off into the distance near Cas's feet. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Faith is a personal thing, Dean, and can be altered to meet your needs," he smiles.

That explanation satisfies Dean for a while, as it's a completely new concept to him. He's always viewed faith and religion as a strict set of rules that control the life of anyone who buys into them. A bunch of concretes that try to represent the abstract. It's one of the reasons why he finds such things distasteful; he doesn't like the idea that he has to conform himself to a set of outdated rules in order to prove himself to some higher power that may or may not be there. Far as he knows, he's only got one life here on Earth, and he's not gonna waist it on the mundane.

Cas's hypothesis opens his eyes to the shades of gray that come with the intellectual take on religion, but it doesn't clarify just how Cas views God.

So, he rolls out from underneath his car, and he asks.

"What's your definition of God?"

Cas thinks about it for a moment before answering, worrying his lip as he puts previously-unstated emotions into words. "God is... an overseer of humanity. Not the violent, wrathful being that people often preach about, but one who views all of his creations with love. He did, after all, give us free will. It is not up to him to punish or reward us for how we use it; that would eliminate its very essence. He lets us take command of our own lives and allows us to live them with the plagues and wars because it is not his place to tell us to avoid such things." Here, Cas stops, because he realizes that he doesn't want Dean to think him silly.

"That's... that's pretty cool, Cas."

Castiel's lips turn up slightly at the corners. "I take it that you don't believe in God?"

Dean shrugs and immerses himself in the delicate task of cleaning his tools. "Nah. Guess I'm just not as optimistic as you." He covers his wry smile with a grimace and then finds himself under the car once more, wrenching at a bolt that really doesn't need to be messed with.

Castiel is quiet for a long while, and when Dean works up the balls to look over at him again, he has his lips pursed. It's another few minutes before Cas says, "Life has been very unkind to you, Dean."

The man snorts. "Life is what it is, Cas. It fucks everyone just the same."

"What made you so cynical?" Cas asks, and he doesn't sound accusing like most other people do who ask him that question. Cas is concerned and confused in that way that only Cas can be, and he shows it by sliding down to sit on the dirty garage floor next to Dean, despite the fact that he's wearing a nicer pair of slacks.

Dean shrugs. "My mom used to believe. Told me every night that angels were watching over me." He shakes his head, trying to keep the emotions of the memory at bay. "No God would have let her die, Cas." 

Cas slides a comforting hand into Dean's greasy one and squeezes. "God works in-"

"If you say 'mysterious ways', so help me, I will kick your ass six ways from Sunday," Dean threatens, but it comes out as a weak laugh, as if he's just trying to play the bad-boy role that he's been assigned, as if it's a redemption for venturing so dangerously into emotional territory.

"Dwelling on the negatives can overshadow the positives, Dean. My mother's death caused me and my family grief for years, yet the sun still shines." He pauses and gets a small smile on his face again, one that looks almost sad and sheepish. "I did find you, after all."

"Aw, shuddup," Dean says quietly, grinning all the while. Cas can be the most sinister guy in the whole damn state, but the guy can still find it in himself to be the sappiest lover that Dean had never expected him to be (although, he can't say he's upset that it's turned out like this).

"There _is_ good in the world, Dean," Cas assures him once more. He kisses the grease-smudged inside of Dean's wrist before retreating back to his chair.

Dean wants nothing more than to point out the fact that any world that allowed Dean Winchester to exist while taking Mary Winchester from a family that desperately loved her must be a flawed one, but he refrains. Some things, he thinks, are best kept to himself.

"What do you pray for?" Dean asks loudly from his place beneath the car once more. He wants desperately to change the subject.

"I pray for the wellbeing of my family and of you, Sam, and Jess. I pray for your happiness and good tidings for Sam and Jess, and occasionally for the strength to make it through a difficult period." He says these things as though they aren't intensely personal thoughts and wishes. It shouldn't surprise Dean, but it does.

"You think God actually listens?"

"Of course. I think voicing my desires allows me to better pursue them, however. I am not one of the people who prays for a car and expects one to appear on my doorstep in the morning."

Dean chuckles at that. The way Cas says it, with such distaste, makes the man love Cas even more. He knows Cas wouldn't be one of the people he mentioned, but it's still good to know the man can feel the same emotions toward the same idiots that Dean does.

"Your brand of faith ain't half bad, Cas," Dean tells him.

"I personally feel that yours could use some work, but it is not my place to impose any beliefs upon you."

And, at that, Dean bursts out in a fit of surprised laughter. He loves how blunt Cas is when it comes to voicing his opinion. If Cas thinks something needs to be said, he'll say it. And, for some reason that Dean doesn't want to think about, the man's statement brings a peculiar warmth to his chest that transcends the usual love he feels.

"Yeah, well, maybe you can convert me," Dean laughs, and he's only partly joking. He's done crazier things for the younger man.

Before any other words are exchanged, Sam enters the garage looking a little more than flustered.

"Dean," he begins in a voice that is usually reserved for late night phone calls about emergencies and loved ones, "I need your help."

In the blink of an eye, Dean is out from beneath the car and is wiping off his hands. "What's wrong, Sammy? Whatcha need?"

"The moving van is gonna be here soon, and I've still got a lot of crap that needs to be packed, and I just can't do it by myself. I know you didn't want to help me because I know you don't want to see me go, but..." Sam keeps talking, everything spit out in a hurry, and doesn't hear when Dean tries to cut in.

"Sammy-"

"-there's just no way I can do it on my own and-"

"Sammy!"

Finally, Sam shuts his mouth and looks at Dean with wide eyes.

"Dammit, Sammy, take a deep breath," Dean laughs as he discards his shop rag and claps his brother on the shoulder. "I'm not gonna let my little brother have a panic attack 'bout movin' in with his girl. 'Course I'll give you a hand."

Sam's worried expression melts into an overwhelmingly grateful one. His shoulders seem to deflate with all the tense air let out of them. "Oh, God, thank you so much, Dean-"

"Might not wanna thank me yet," the older man laughs, "'M only helpin' 'cause I know you need someone with some muscle to to all the heavy liftin'."

"Oh my God, Dean," his brother groans.

And, as he chuckles, Dean turns to Cas. "You wanna come with?"

"If I won't be a burden," Castiel hesitantly agrees, looking to Sam for further affirmation.

"Cas, you aren't a burden. You'll probably be a better help than this ass over here." Sam nudges Dean playfully.

"Thank you, Sam," Cas murmurs, a soft sound that's almost lost in the midst of Dean and Sam's brotherly squabbling. The only reason he knows it's heard is Sam beaming at him happily as he beckons him to follow.

As it turns out, Sam has packed pretty much everything as far as Dean can see. There's nothing in the closet or in any of Sam's dressers. Most of his personal effects have been picked up from around the house and stored away carefully into cardboard boxes. Everything from the bathroom, from the kitchen: packed.

"What the hell you neven need our help for, Sammy?" Dean asks, confused.

Sam's only response is a sheepish shrug and, "Well, y'know, there might be some stuff layin' around the house..."

At that moment, Jess lets herself into the house, calling out, "Sam! The truck is here!" and Sam's expression becomes immediately sheepish.

"Uh..." he begins, but he doesn't even bother to finish, because Dean is staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"So you called us out for the heavy liftin', huh?" the older man asks accusingly.

"Maybe...?

Meanwhile, Cas beckons to Jess to join them in the bedroom with the rest of the family. She saunters in just in time to quip, "Ah, so I see Sam decided not to tell you that you were needed for hauling our shit to our house today, hm?" She laughs, the sound so full of happiness and expectation for things to come that Dean wouldn't dare be upset at her for it. She grabs the nearest box and gives each man a pointed look. "Well, you're here now, so how 'bout we get to it?"

And, as usual, Dean grumbles about being tricked into working, but he's not truly upset. Not when his little brother is getting the apple-pie-and-picked-fence life that he had always dreamed about. That he's more than earned. Plus, Dean thinks that it's kinda nice for all four of them to be doing something together, even if it does involve a lot more physical activity than a normal get-together would.

He really can't complain, though, because he thoroughly enjoys watching Cas work. The kid doesn't look too intimidating, as his usual attire consists of sweaters or jackets covering his t-shirts, but he's in damn good shape. It's not often that Dean gets to see the man engaging in more activity that isn't sex, and if he's honest, it's kinda hot.

And on the more romantic end of the spectrum, it's real damn nice to be able to brush up against the man as they walk out to the moving van side-by-side, to shoot Cas a goofy, lopsided grin and get a soft smile in return.

Dean isn't looking forward to Sam leaving - in fact, a change this big is scaring the shit out of him - but, he thinks, he could get used to this. Just him and Cas and the house. No one else to worry about when they want to fuck against the wall, when they're shedding clothes on the way to their bedroom. Dean is by no means getting the short end of the stick, and he's damn pleased that he has Cas to keep him sane through everything.

They finish packing relatively quickly. Growing up on the road brings with it the need to only keep the bare essentials. When Sam and Dean moved into their current home, they kept their duffel bags packed for months on end, simply because anything else felt wrong to them. As it stands, Sam hasn't really accumulated a lot since then, and having four able bodies to assist him makes a great impact on the time it takes for said things to be packed away.

For some reason, that still bothers Sam. He scours the house with a worried expression on his face, and he keeps muttering, "Know I'm forgetting something... gotta be somethin' else I can pack..."

"Sammy, seriously," Dean groans from the doorway. "It's painful watchin' you, man. How many times you gonna look in the same spots?" He watches his brother dig through the closet for the third time in the past five minutes, and it's driving him insane. "Look, man, you're not gonna be that far away. If I find your shit, I can just run it over to you."

Sam straightens up, nodding and brushing his hair out of his face. He looks a little dazed. "Yeah. Yeah, that works, too."

"Now c'mon." Jess tugs on Sam's arm, and finally, he moves with her. "We've still gotta make a run to my house to pick up my stuff, and _then_ we have to unload everything and unpack, and..."

Jess has had a relatively stable life, and so she has far more possessions than both Sam and Dean combined. However, some of those possessions include dishes, silverware, and the basic furniture they'll need to start their life together. Plus, both of Jess's parents offer a hand in loading the rest of their items into the moving van and bid them farewell as Jess, Sam, Cas, and Dean pile into the cab of the truck while Sam drives them over to their new home.

And a beautiful home it is. It's nothing big, but it could comfortably house a small family within its white-paneled walls. The damn thing even has a white picket fence and big windows upon whose sills Dean imagines apple pies cooling in the crisp fall breeze. It's everything that anyone could ask for in their first home.

The best part, Dean thinks, is the fact that he'll only be about five minutes from his brother. Sam lives a little closer to the main parts of town than Dean, who prefers the privacy of the country and the waving cornfields that he can see from the back window. But Sammy has always been different than Dean.

"This is beautiful," Cas says. It's surprising that he's the first one to find the words to break their silence.

"Thank you, Cas," Jess says warmly, leaning over to peck the man on the cheek. It's kind of hilarious to see Cas's startled and confused expression, and Dean can't stifle the laughter. Cas glances over at him with widened eyes before he seems to gather that the kiss is a socially acceptable form of expressing gratitude. And then, his heart warms at the fact that Jess considers him close enough to her that she can do such things without a second thought.

"How 'bout we get all this crap inside, huh?" Dean asks with a grin as he opens the door. They all tumble out from their cramped confines set to work. Actually being at the house seems to calm something in Sam while also stoking the fire of his excitement. He joins in on their stupid jokes and the back-and-forth banter that is kept up constantly between Dean and Jess with the occasional quip from Cas's direction.

Dean's heart warms in his chest at the sight. It feels like they're one big family, and it's nice. He hasn't been this happy since... well, he he doesn't quite know when. It's not often that he has a happily-head-over-heels-in-love brother, a soon-to-be sister-in-law full of snark and joy, and a heaven-sent boyfriend all in one place with no worries shared between them.

Once everything is piled into the house and the furniture is placed in the general area of where Sam and Jess may one day want it to be, everyone stands, looks at each other, and takes a deep breath.

"Well," Jess says, "we're done."

"Looks like you're gonna have fun gettin' everything sorted," Dean points out as he leans against the wall with his arm wrapped around Cas and nods at their stacks of unlabeled boxes.

"Yeah, well," she smiles, "that's all part of the fun, huh?"

"I'd ask you guys to hang out for dinner, but I don't think we have anything yet," Sam states sheepishly.

"Aw, that's okay. Me an' Cas can feed ourselves. Wouldn't wanna bug you guys, anyway," the older man shrugs.

"You two are welcome whenever, okay?" Jess tells them. "I hate to cut this short, but Sam and I have to get the van back by six, or we'll have to pay for another day. D'you guys want a ride home?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, Jess."

Once more, they all pile into the small cab of the moving van. There's really only room for three people on the bench seat, so Jess just plops down on top of Sam's lap (promising not to distract him from his driving... _too much_ ).

The ride home is quiet, but the peaceful kind. When the short ride is over, hugs are exchanged between the two parties, even to Cas, who still handles hugs like they're a complete mystery to him. Dean and Cas tumble out of the car once again, the former shouting over his shoulder, "Don't forget to christen all your furniture with some good ol' housewarming sex!" loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. Sam, the pansy, actually blushes and scolds Dean while Jess just laughs and laughs.

Dean and Cas wave them off and stand out on the front porch until the van has disappeared into the distance.

"Wanna go cuddle?" Dean asks suddenly, still staring off at the road.

Cas's lip quirks up at the corner. "I thought Dean Winchester didn't cuddle."

"Yeah, well."

"Of course I'll cuddle with you, Dean."

They practically trip over each other on their way inside. It's nice to venture outdoors, but nothing beats being able to comfortably tangle their limbs together with abandon.

The master bedroom seems like the optimal place, even if the couch seems to call their name as they pass by. However, once they get there, Dean and Cas look at one another with a grimace.

"I'm sweaty, Cas," the older man whines. "How 'bout a shower instead, huh?"

"Perfect."

They could have gotten to the bathroom any faster unless they ran. As the water heats up and Dean and Cas strip down, Cas asks, "Does Sam's leaving still upset you?"

Dean, his shirt halfway over his head, pauses in bewilderment. "Geez, Cas. Sure doesn't take you long to get right down to the nitty-gritty, huh?"

"I don't understand."

"Cas, we're strippin' off our clothes and gettin' ready to shower together. Kinda not the best time for topics that aren't, y'know, 'what kind of soap do you use' or sex."

"I already know what kind of soap you use, and I did infer that sex would be involved, so I felt it was not necessary to dwell on those topics. I apologize." Cas is sporting the most damn adorable blush that Dean has ever seen. He's pretty sure that no one but Cas can look that cute while stripping down to his birthday suit. But, then again, no one but Cas can bring such girly emotions out of Dean, so the point is kind of moot.

It also makes Dean feel pretty bad, because he didn't intend for Cas to feel guilty. He drops his clothes and drags Cas into a hug. "Don't apologize, man. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But-"

"Shhh. Here, I'll make a compromise, okay? We'll briefly - and I mean _briefly_ talk about all that sappy, emotional man-pain shit, and then we can get to the good stuff. Deal?"

"...Deal."

They part so that they can finish undressing while Dean says, "Honestly, yeah, Sammy leavin' kinda bugs me. I mean, it's been the two of us against the world for... well, for as long as I can remember. So it's weird that he won't be here everyday"

Cas understands that there's more, that Dean is not quite finished, so he prompts him with, "Please continue."

"But it wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."

"How so?"

Well, me an' Sam... I love the kid to death, but if he does somethin' I don't fully agree with, we'll fight tooth-and-nail 'bout it for weeks until one of us goes and does somethin' stupid, and we just end up goin' back to the usual routine, just with more hurt feelings." Dean shakes his head. "He's just so happy, Cas. I can't take that away from him, even in the smallest amounts. I know I'm selfish, but I'm not _that_ much of a prick."

Cas looks at Dean with a glimmer of a smile in his eyes. "I'm very glad that you shared that with me."

"Yeah, well. It ain't the end of the world," he shrugs. He wants to tell Cas that the fact that they're together also plays a huge role, that he certainly wouldn't have been able to handle Sam's moving without a support like Cas, but he can't do it. It ventures too far into a whole lot of feelings that he doesn't want to dwell on right now. So, instead, he grins and says, "So how about we focus on one of those other shower topics?"

"Dean, I already told you, I know what kind of soap you use."

Dean is just about to correct him when he sees the amusement in Cas's eyes, and he realizes that it's a joke. Even if it's kind of a bad one, it still sets him snickering, and he drags Cas into their shower, saying only, "C'mere, you."

The water is warm against their tired muscles, and it relaxes them both almost immediately. For the first few moments, they actually try to keep some semblance of a normal shower, with Dean lathering both of them up with soap and just a few wandering hands that are quickly corrected.

It's Cas, surprisingly, who breaks that normalcy and initiates contact. It's slow and steady to Dean's desperate and needly. He knows that, for all Dean seems to be coping, he's really still hurt inside, and it comes out in the way his arms hold Cas tight, like he never wants to let go, in the way it seems like he's searching for assurance that, yes, Cas is there. Castiel pushes Dean until the man's back is against the tiled wall, pressing their bodies close.

"Cas, Cas, baby," Dean whispers against the man's lips. His hands find their way to Cas's face. "Cas, I need you."

"I know, Dean," is Cas's husky response. He moves to nip at Dean's throat, but Dean pulls his gaze back to lock with his own.

"No, no, I mean-" he gulps, "I want you to fuck me."

It feels like all of the air escapes from Cas's chest in one almost violent rush. "Are you sure, Dean?"

He nods. "I need - I trust you, Cas. _Please_." The last word is gasped out almost unwillingly, because Cas has started grinding their hips together, and _god_ , if that doesn't feel like heaven, then Dean doesn't know what would.

They waste as little time as possible in their foreplay, mainly because Dean doesn't know if he'll chicken out. He's never bottomed before, but Cas makes it look like a freakin' divine experience. Not to mention Cas and his goddamn hip-rolling - shit's already got him on cloud nine. Any more, and he'll be on the verge of coming without any actual fucking.

"Lube," he breathes out as Cas kisses his neck. "Need lube."

Almost immediately, Cas leans out of the shower and fishes around in the slacks that he'd been wearing earlier and appears with a bottle of lube in hand.

"You... you carry that with you?" Dean asks breathlessly, just a little confused.

Cas looks him dead in the eye and says, serious as a statue, "I wish to be prepared." And, oh _fuck_ , if that isn't hot...

Dean doesn't get to pursue the thought for long, as one of Cas's slicked-up fingers has pushed past the ring of muscle that he'd relaxed unknowingly. He inhales in surprise.

"Are you all right?" Cas asks, all formal concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Just feels different." Dean nods for him to keep going.

Cas moves slowly at first, letting Dean becoming acquainted with the feeling just as Dean had done for him. It's not half bad, considering he has Cas sucking hickeys onto his neck and chest like they're going out of style. Dean is doing too many things with his mouth - namely, lip-biting and gasping obscenities - to be able to kiss Cas.

He adds another finger, then a third. By this point, Dean's not feeling much of that weirdness. It's all been replaced with pleasure, especially since Cas also used this time to hunt down exactly where Dean's prostate lies. However, he keeps purposely missing it with each inward push of his fingers, and Dean is pretty sure that Cas just likes hearing him beg, "Move, move, move, Cas, baby, please don't tease - oh, shit, right _there_!"

"I don't want you to come," Cas purrs in that unintentionally sexy voice of his. He pulls his fingers out and nips at Dean's lower lip, their eyes locked all the while. "Not yet."

"Then for the love of God, just _fuck me_ ," Dean groans as he lets his head fall back against the wall.

Cas smirks, but he wastes no time sliding into Dean. And, yes, he too feels like he's died and gone to heaven. Having Dean's warmth around him is so overwhelming that he has to gasp and drop his head against the crook of Dean's neck.

They pause like that for what feels like an eternity. Cas is holding onto Dean's hips, and Dean has his arms thrown around Cas's neck, clutching the muscles of the man's back for dear life. The water beats down on them and surrounds them with warmth, and it feels like the air is a blanket enveloping them in nothing but passion.

Cas is the first one to lift his head, and he kisses Dean softly. "Open your eyes," he commands. "I want to watch you."

In this position, Dean feels like he's baring his soul when he meets Cas's intense gaze, but it's certainly not a bad thing. And, fuck, when Cas moves, it takes all of willpower not to squeeze his eyes shut yet again because this is such an overwhelming cocktail of senses that he doesn't know what to do with himself.

The important thing is that he does keep his eyes open, and it's worth every damn second. That way, he gets to see the way Cas's lip twitches up when he rolls his hips forward, right at the exact moment when Dean's whole body is bathed in fireworks of pleasure. He gets to watch Cas bite his lip and hold in gasps, gets too see how damn good dominance looks on Cas.

He leans forward and kisses Cas slowly, and when he pulls back, he says, "Don't hold them noises in, okay Cas? Wanna hear 'em all."

Each of Cas's thrusts are pointed straight for their mark and carefully executed. Dean's wondering if that's just because they're in the shower, and, yeah, he's curious to find out just how Cas performs in an actual bed. Not like this is bad, though. It's kind of nice to have a little bit of a slower, romantic side to things. He likes that Cas's hand has found its way to his lower back, because it feels so goddamn stable. He likes that they have time to enjoy each other, to see the way pleasure glazes their eyes and to make each of their kisses long and messy, punctuated only by a moan or a gasp or an intake of breath.

"F-fuckin' perfect, Cas," Dean gasps against the other man's lips.

At that, the man moans softly. "I won't make it much longer, Dean." He reaches down with one hand and starts to stroke Dean, and he doesn't make quick work of it, either.

"C'mon, baby," Dean whispers absently, but he's too caught up in how damn great it feels to have the combined pleasure of being jacked off while being fucked. He knows his pupils are probably blown wide from all of this, which, he theorizes, is why Cas keeps kissing him like it's the end of the world.

They come together just a moment later, their mouths pressed together and absorbing the heated cries of the other.

For what seems like a very long time, they both remain there. The only change is that Dean relinquishes his death grip on Cas's back. Their eyes are still locked, and their lips are still just barely touching, and the water is still running over them.

The water is, unfortunately, the only reason why they even bothered to move at all. The heat has long since ran out, and cold water is pelting them like unforgiving oceans.

"Should probably get outta here," Dean mumbles, though he wants nothing more than to remain in Cas's arms forever.

They have to finish their shower, however, because the both of them have gone and gotten sweaty all over again. It's the quickest damn shower they've ever taken. The estimated time from their decision to finish showering to the time when they stumble out and dry off, shivering, is under five minutes. 

"We definitely need pajamas tonight," Cas points out as they scurry to the bedroom together, swathed in fresh towels to keep out the cold. "And I think it'd be wise to take you up on your offer of cuddling."

Dean grins. "Oh, hell yeah."

After throwing on their pajamas - to Dean's delight, Cas is wearing one of his t-shirts - they crawl into the bed together and almost immediately find a comfortable spot to curl up in. In this case, it means that Dean is the little spoon, but he really can't be bothered to mention it.

"Thanks, Cas," he mumbles sleepily.

"I do not need to be thanked for cuddling, Dean."

"No, no," he laughs. "I mean... for bein' here and listenin' to my shit and, y'know." Dean shrugs, not wanting to continue the statement.

"You are welcome, Dean," Cas says softly, with a tenderness that makes something twist inside of Dean. The man obviously understands all of Dean's underlying meanings, which is great, since it doesn't require as much introspection.

Dean kisses the top of Cas's hand. "G'night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean. I love you."

"Love you, too."


	20. Twenty

Before they know it, months pass, and summer is right around the corner.

The months that drift by contain some of the happiest memories that the two men have ever made. There was the Thanksgiving where everyone without a family to dine with showed up at The Roadhouse, including Cas, Dean, and a reluctant Bobby. Everyone pushed the tables together and at the honest-to-God Thanksgiving dinner that Ellen and Jo prepared for them all. Then, the next day, Anna, Gabriel, and Lucius showed up with Sam and Jess for a spontaneous post-Thanksgiving dinner, where both sides of the family could meet and mingle. Needless to say, it was an interesting time. Anna and Jess got along fabulously, both Dean and Sam were put off by Gabriel's perpetual teasing, and Lucius was soft-spoken but could be riotously funny. Much to Cas's pleasure, Dean appeared to get along with everyone, and they made promises to have more of these get-togethers.

And the Christmas that Cas and Dean spent with Sam and Jess at their new apartment. Cas had gone all out with the tree and decorations, as it was his first proper Christmas (growing up in the household that he did, Dean would have thought Christmas would be huge; however, it seems like it included a lot of church-going and solemnity). However, when they were invited over to share the holiday with Sam and Jess, there really was no way they could say no.

Those months also saw their first fights. Some were little spats over seemingly trivial things, and some blew up into actual shouting arguments. A few times, when Dean wanted to race someone that Cas knew would fight dirty, their arguments escalated so quickly that Dean spent the night in Sam's old room.

Needless to say, those months were also witness to the mornings where Dean would show up on the doorstep, sheepish, and doing everything in his power to earn forgiveness. Those months saw angry make-up sex, hurt feelings that were mended only with soft kisses and time, and a renewed understanding that they only have each other and that they're willing to overcome any battle placed in their path. It's just that sometimes they're too damn stubborn to compromise right away.

All in all, Dean finds that he settles into domesticity very well. Of course, he's had his moments of doubt, where he wakes up to the thought that he can't do this, can't even comprehend settling down. However, he often finds that he can just get behind the wheel and drive until his head clears. He is only human, after all, and Cas's seemingly infinite patience only serves as a help to him. Sometimes, Dean just needs to remind himself that not much has really changed. He still wakes up each morning and goes to work, and Cas still does to college. Dean still races each weekend, still celebrates his wins with his friends at The Roadhouse. The main difference is that Cas lives with him and Sam doesn't.

In fact, all those months find Dean and Cas at the Roadhouse together, having a quick snack before Cas has to return to his studies. It's been a hard week for the both of them, with Cas working to ace his finals and Dean taking on extra shifts at Bobby's to keep himself out of Cas's hair. They both decided that they've earned a welcome break from that monotony tonight.

Which is, of course, why they both cringe at the sound of Meg's voice as she exclaims, "Well, hey there, Dean-o!"

"Meg-" Dean begins, but the woman is already pulling up a chair with a devilish smirk on her face that lets him know he'd best let her tell him what she needs to, else she won't be out of his hair all night.

"I know, I know. I'm interruptin' your bonding time," she laughs. Even though it's meant as a passing remark, it grates on Dean's nerves, and a moment of worry attacks him as he wonders if people know about him and Cas. "I just heard some rumors. Thought you might like to hear 'em."

Dean purposely doesn't look at her as he takes a bite of his pie. "What'd you hear?"

"Boy, you are not gonna believe this," she says, leaning forward confidentially. "Dick Roman's comin' to town, Dean. Soon."

"And?"

"And he is _pissed_. Dean, he's been red in the ears since you whooped his ass, and he ain't one to take defeat easy. Got some friends a few towns over, said Dick's been racin' his way to you. Every damn town 'tween him and you. Decked out his car real good, too. Everyone's sayin' you might have met your match."

Dean wipes his mouth with his napkin, crumples it up, and tosses it onto his empty plate. Finally, he looks at Meg with disdain as he addresses her. "I don't give one goddamn 'bout how pissed he is. I'll smoke his ass again if I need to, but I bet he's just talkin' himself up to sound tough, tryin' to scare me. And I'll tell you right now, it ain't gonna work."

"Dean, he ain't just pissed. He's been talkin' revenge, and not just the 'I'll beat you and we'll be even' kind."

"Let 'im talk."

"Look, Dean, I'm just tryin' to give you a heads up here," Meg says defensively, eyes narrowed. "I'd watch myself if I were you."

She doesn't stick around to hear his response to that. Meg shoves back her chair and saunters off to the group of friends that she came with. Cas watches her leave, then turns back to Dean to find him fuming, a silent anger hidden deep in his eyes and in the set of his jaw.

"C'mon," Dean mutters through his teeth as he stands up, "we're leaving."

"Dean, I haven't finish-"

"I said, we're _leaving_."

Dean drops a few crumpled up dollar bills onto the table and storms out of the restaurant, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. Cas scrambles to collect their things before he hurries after the other man. He barely closes the door of the Coupe when Dean peels out of the parking lot.

The first few minutes of the ride are silent and tense. Dean stays confined to one half of the car, Cas on the other. They merely stare out the window as they drive through town.

"I don't understand what you're so furious about," Cas states quietly and calmly.

Dean glares at Cas through the corner of his eyes, then turns his glance back to the road. He says nothing, and it only serves to make Cas angrier.

"If you'd prefer to ignore me like a petulant child rather than answer my question, fine," he spits, "but you had _no right_ to snap at me in The Roadhouse, and I demand an explanation."

The man scoffs and rubs his eyes. "I don't want to talk about this."

"I do."

"Well, the fuckin' world don't revolve around you, Cas!"

Silence.

Dean regrets the words as they leave his lips, but he's too far gone to take them back. He's damn tired of the whole goddamn Dick Roman business, he's exhausted from working, and he's upset that his night with Cas is ruined. He doesn't know why he wants to fight with Cas, of all people; likely because he's the closest person, making him the easiest target upon which to vent his anger.

Then, Cas's voice cuts through the tense air, hard as steel.

"Pull over."

Dean is taken aback. "What? Why?"

"Pull over right now, Dean Winchester." The tone of Cas's voice is so deadly that Dean has no choice but to comply. That is, however, until he sees Cas grab his backpack and open the door.

"Woah, hey, what the hell're you doin'?" he asks in shock. He has no sharpness in his voice now, and he reaches out to grab Cas's arm. Cas immediately shakes it off.

"I should kick your ass right now for what you said to me, Dean. However, if you seem to be so deluded as to think that I will allow you to speak to me in that manner, then I have no interest in being around you." Before any response can come, Cas exits the Coupe, and, even though is body speaks of a wealth of anger, he doesn't slam the door. The simple action makes Dean feel like shit; Cas always think of Dean's feelings, even when Dean is being an insensitive asshole.

He leans over to roll down the window, and he drives alongside Cas as the man walks down the street. "Cas, c'mon. Let's go home and talk about this, huh? Sleep on it, maybe? I'll take Sam's old room if you want me to."

Cas elects to say nothing. He quickens his pace and walks down the sidewalk, his grip on the strap of his bag death-tight.

"At least lemme know where you're goin'. If you're gonna be safe."

Again, Cas says nothing. Dean begins to get very nervous, his insides seeming to contort into thousands of complicated knots.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I didn't mean to snap at you. Please just come home with me. _Please._ "

Cas's head turns abruptly, but he doesn't even look at Dean, even if Dean does get a glimpse of a face that seems to have anger written into its every pore. Instead, he flags down an approaching car. Dean's head whips around just as fast, and he sees that it's a taxi. It pulls over for Cas, and the man pays no attention to Dean. He merely crawls into the backseat.

Dean watches dumbly as the taxi takes off for whatever destination Cas had given the driver. He pounds his fist into the dashboard and exclaims, "Son of a _bitch!/_ " to an audience of exactly no one.

His mind in a muddle, Dean just drives. Cruising, however, is damn boring without Cas by his side, waxing poetic about a book that Dean has never heard of before or laughing at Dean's jokes or just being a quiet companion. He tries smoking, and it helps take a little of the edge from his anger, but not much. After a while, he just can't help himself, because the loneliness gets so damn painful. So when he pulls up next to a carload of giggling girls, he leans out the window and asks if one of them would like to join him. It doesn't surprise him that it's Lisa Braeden who comes to join him, all bouncing curls and smiles. Still, her happy chatter does nothing in terms of making him feel better. When she suggests going out somewhere more private, he apologizes and drops her off with her friends.

And he's pulling away, thinking about how he probably just ruined her night, too, when he realizes that he's damn stupid. Why the hell didn't he follow the taxi to its destination? Why'd he have to go and fucking drive off like a complete idiot?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groans to himself as he floors it back home. He'll never forgive himself if anything bad happened to Cas, if the guy didn't find somewhere safe to go for the night. It's Dean's own damn fault in the first place. If only he could keep his cool, if only he didn't use Cas as an emotional punching bag and still expect the man to keep his composure when Dean lashes out.

He makes it home in record time, and he barely has the engine of the Coupe shut off when he's shoving through the door and searching the house. When he finds it empty, he heads to the hall phone and dials Sam's new phone number.

"Hello?" Sam picks up after the first ring like he's been waiting for a call.

"Sammy-"

"Dean! Oh, Jesus Christ," Sam exclaims with a heaving sigh. "What the hell did you do?"

Dean is taken aback. "Whattya mean?"

" _I mean_ Cas showed up in a taxi asking to crash on our couch for a few days, no questions asked. _I mean_ I've been trying to call you for two freakin' hours, but you didn't pick up your damn phone." The yonger man sounds angry, but Dean can't even be bothered with that. He's just so relieved - it's like a weight has been lifted from his chest knowing that Cas is in good hands.

"So Cas is there? He's okay?" Dean asks.

"I don't know, Dean. How do you define 'okay'?" Sam retorts sarcastically. "Because Cas sure as hell isn't okay."

"Wh-"

"We tried to talk to him, Dean, but he wouldn't tell us what happened," he says pointedly. "When he showed up, he... dammit, he looked like he just found out Santa wasn't real and he looked pissed all at once. And then it sounded like he was... y'know... crying when he went to bed."

Dean heaves another sigh and slides down the wall. "Shit."

"The hell did you _do_ , Dean?"

"I..." he trails off. Does he really want to pour his heart and soul out to his brother right now? "I just said some stupid shit, is all. I hurt his feelings, and he walked outta my car and got a taxi."

"Then why the hell did it take you so damn long to call me?" Sam hisses. When Dean doesn't answer, he adds quietly, "You weren't... _with_ someone, were you?"

"Jesus, Sammy! No!" he exclaims. "I was pissed, I went for a drive, I cleared my head. That's it."

"Look, Dean. You've got somethin' good in Cas, okay? Don't screw this up."

"Gee, Sam, your faith in me is astounding."

"Dean-"

"I just called to make sure he was all right. Tell him he can come home whenever he wants, 'cause he's always welcome, and that I got some stuff to say 'bout what happened."

"...Okay, Dean."

Sam hangs up after that, and his lack of a goodbye lets Dean know just how pissed off his little brother actually is.

And it feels like something inside Dean is eating away at his very willpower. He feels, for lack of a more fitting phrase, like utter shit. He and Cas have had their fights, sure, but never this bad. If they're too angry to sleep together, one of them just takes a spare bedroom, and they just wait it out until the next morning, when they're more apt to be open to discussion.

Cas has never stayed the night at Sam's house during a fight. And that's how Dean knows he's screwed up big time.

He drags himself off the floor to put the phone back on the receiver in hopes that Cas might call, and he gets ready for bed mechanically, almost in a daze. He makes to climb into the bed, but he gets no farther than the doorway. The thing looks unbreachable without Cas there. It's too damn big without Cas taking up his half, too damn cold without his space heater of a lover.

Dean sleeps restlessly on the couch that night. It just doesn't feel right without Cas there, curled around him.

__________

When he wakes, Dean finds that Cas still isn't home. He heads to work with a sinking feeling in his gut and is so preoccupied that Bobby notices it straight off. He just about gives Dean the day off when Dean pleads to stay just so that he can have something else to think about. Bobby asks no questions, just lets Dean stay as long as the kid likes.

He comes home late that night to discover that Cas had been there: some of the man's clothes are missing from the closet. There's no note or any other sign that Cas has even set foot in there, but it's evidence enough. The whole damn affair is stressing him out so much that he chain smokes a pack of cigarettes before he can even wrap his head around what to do next.

Dean calls Sam, who is too busy studying to talk, and Dean falls asleep in the armchair, hoping that Cas will creep in sometime during the night.

__________

The third day, Dean really starts to panic. He hasn't heard so much as a damn whisper from Cas, and he's pretty sure he's gonna go crazy soon if he doesn't. However, he certainly doesn't cry out of frustration or pick up the phone hundreds of times to call Sam only to get fed up and slam it down in the reciever. He certainly doesn't write Cas pages and pages of letters of apologies, soul-bearing truths, and poetic descriptions of their love. Certainly not.

And his heart most definitely doesn't stop at the sound of a knock on the door, and he doesn't leap up to answer it in an embarrassingly short blink of an eye.

The open door reveals Cas standing in the warm May sunset, looking about as disheveled as Dean feels. His hair is wild, and his creepy trenchcoat is rumpled. Still, he finds it in him to force his lips to take on the shape of his signature almost-smile, even if it's a little shadowed by his several day old beard and tired eyes.

"Hello, Dean," he says softly, his voice rough but like music to Dean's ears.

He lets out a relieved smile. "Hey, Cas," he chokes out through an emotion-thick throat. And then he throws his arms around Cas and holds the man tight. God, he's certainly missed that, the feel of Cas's body warm against his own. He breathes in the man's familiar scent, and he's pleased to find Cas clutching him with an equal amount of desperation. At least, he thinks, the despair of their separation wasn't one-sided.

"I'm still upset with you, Dean Winchester," he mumbles into the skin of Dean's neck.

Dean huffs a breath of amusement. "S'okay, Cas."

They pull apart, even though they've likely been hugging too long to have it be considered platonic. Dean holds the door open and takes Cas's overnight bag. "Well, uh, I think we should talk about everything, huh?"

Five minutes finds Cas on the couch with a cup of coffee and Dean at a respectable distance, strongly resisting the temptation of alcohol. He knows Cas doesn't like it when he drinks, and drinking while trying to discuss their problems is just asking for a world of hurt.

"I'm real sorry, Cas," Dean spits out immediately, the words tumbling over each other on the way out of his mouth. "I feel like shit for treatin' you so bad. You don't deserve that, Cas. You really don't."

"I forgive you, Dean," Cas states softly around the edge of his coffee mug. Dean can't find it in him to do more than gape for a moment or two, gaping straight at the eyes that are staring at him.

"Wh- really?" Dean asks incredulously. "You sure you don't wanna, like, kick my ass or anything?"

The other man tilts his head in confusion. "No, I do not. Would that make you feel better?"

"Well...no," Dean chuckles. He looks down at his hands. "So, are we good now?"

"I'd like to know what had you so upset."

Dean heaves a deep breath. "'M so tired of this Dick Roman shit, Cas. Guy's a real class act, an' everyone keeps houndin' my ass about it like he's somethin' I need to be scared about."

"So you'll still race him?" Cas asks, and Dean doesn't miss how a little bit of the man's former softness has been sapped out of his words.

"Not you, too," Dean groans as he drops his head against the back of the couch. "'Course I'm gonna race him, Cas. Guy's all bark and no bite."

"I just feel as though he's looking for retribution outside of the race," Cas sighs. "I have a very bad feeling residing inside me, Dean. Like something is just not right about the entire situation."

"Look, he's been talkin' himself up for months. If he actually comes to race, I'll race him. I'm not a chicken shit. God, why the hell is everyone so damn uptight 'bout this?" Dean groans. He can feel his previous frustration welling up inside of him, but he does his best to swallow it back down.

"We're just worried, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Don't be." Despite his words, Dean's tone is soft. His eyes are closed as though he's trying to contain his emotions within himself. "I gotta race him, Cas. I've been workin' so damn hard to make a name of myself that I can't just give it up now."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Cas asks, his head tilted. "What people will think of you?"

"It's not..." The older man scrubs a hand over his face. His voice drops to near-inaudible levels. "Nobody knew who the fuck I was for years, Cas. We drifted in an' outta towns and no one even spared a second glance. And I've worked so damn hard tryin' to make people recognize me. Dammit, people come from other fuckin' states to race me, and I can't lose that."

Cas reaches over and takes Dean's hand in his own. "I understand, Dean."

Dean perks up, his eyes opening. "You do?"

"You are incredibly stubborn, but I love you for it, and I won't ask you to change. This is something important to you, and it would not be right of me to hold you back." Cas's almost-smile has made a triumphant return, a little goofy and lopsided due to emotion. "And I apologize for being gone for so long. I chose to remain at Sam's until I completed my final exam."

"Don't apologize, Cas. God, I should be on my knees beggin' for forgiveness."

"There's no need as long as you attempt to reign in your temper," Cas tells him, with a soft smile.

"I'll do my best, Cas. Promise," he says sincerely.

"And I'll do my best not to lose mine," Cas tells him.

Dean just laughs and closes the gap between them. "So we're okay now?"

"Yes, we're okay."

"Good. Means I can kiss you again."

And kiss they do. It's tentative, hesitant; both men are worried about overstepping their boundaries. They've been separated for three days, more time than they've been apart since the very beginnings of their relationship, and neither man wants to send the other away again by being too forward.

When Dean slides a had to the small of Cas's back just as Cas adjusts himself to be perched atop Dean, they both know that they need not be so worried.


	21. Twenty-One

Dean and Cas, for all of their frustrations, have done well returning to their usual state of camaraderie by the weekend. Cas is finished with his exams, so he has more freetime on his hands than he's used to, and he spends a good majority of it with Dean at Bobby's. It's nice just to watch and listen to Dean's mind-wandering rambles and give him a hand with the few things he knows how to help with.

"Whattya want for dinner tonight?" Dean asks absently from beneath the hood of the car he's working on. "I was thinkin' of makin' tacos."

"Dean."

"What?"

"You've made tacos three times in the past two weeks."

Dean looks over at the wall with a brow furrowed in though, still leaning over the engine. He ponders for a moment, nods, and says, "Huh."

"I am capable of cooking, Dean," Cas says with his signature almost-smile. "You certainly seemed to enjoy it the last time I did. I do not understand why you insist on doing it yourself."

Dean doesn't get a chance to respond, as Bobby is walking into Dean's workspace, a worried look on his face.

"Hey, Bobby. Need somethin'?" Dean asks.

"That Dick Roman kid stopped by lookin' fer you," Bobby says.

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Yeah? What'd you tell him?"

"Said you're busy workin', and he best get his disruptin' ass outta my shop 'fore I show him the way out myself."

The man stares incredulously at his boss for a moment before bursting out into a bout of deep, resonating laughter that has Cas joining in, and even Bobby cracks a smile. "Dammit, Bobby, you're freakin' great."

"Yeah, yeah." Bobby rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. "He wanted me to leave ya a message. Said that you should meet him at The Roadhouse tonight if ya ain't a chicken."

At that, Dean sobers up. Finally, it's here. The race that everyone's been blabbing on about for months... it's here. He finds himself studying the engine of the car before him as if it'll help to qualm the conflicting emotions within him. He hasn't been this nervous for a race since he first started, but for some reason, the though of racing Dick has his stomach twisting into knots.

"Ya all right there, son?" Bobby asks softly, and the man in question just about jumps to find Bobby standing next to him.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Ya ain't actually thinkin' 'bout racin' this idjit, are ya?" he asks incredulously.

"Bobby, I have to," Dean spits through clenched teeth.

"You have to, my ass," the older man spits in the way he does when Dean's doing something stupid. "Dean, this kid is bad news. He's itchin' to whoop your ass six ways from Sunday, and I ain't sure he's just lookin' to do it on the road."

"Look, I know-"

"If you know so damn well, then you wouldn't be racin' him!" Bobby exclaims. At that, Dean's fingers tighten on the body of the car, an almost undetectable motion for someone who doesn't actually know him. Bobby does catch it, though, and he softens his tone. "I know you think you got somethin' to prove, but riskin' your life ain't worth this, Dean."

"I'm not riskin' my life, Bobby. He's blowin' smoke out his ass, and I don't give one good goddamn if he's dangerous, 'cause I can take him. On the road or off." Dean finally finds the composure to meet Bobby's hard gaze. He sets his jaw and lifts his chin with a confidence he's practiced faking for years.

Bobby just shakes his head and says, "Yeah, well. Don't say I didn't warn ya," before walking away and muttering something under his breath that sounds something similar to, "damn stubborn idjit kids".

It stings to have someone so important to him scorn him so visibly, but Dean doesn't betray his emotions. He just sets to work on the car before him, trying to forget the look of dismay on Bobby's face. And he certainly doesn't dare to see what sort of disapproving look Cas is shooting his way.

Had he looked, he would have found Cas's expression to be more worried than anything else. The man understands Dean's desire - his need - to race Dick Roman, and he isn't the kind of person to be disappointed when someone doesn't do as he would. That doesn't stop him from feeling the anxiety that perhaps something isn't right.

Cas opts not to mention it again now. He knows that Dean is dealing with a lot of people who seem to be suddenly disillusioned in his racing capabilities, and he doesn't want to add to the stress. He will, he supposes, mention something after their meeting with Dick Roman, should things look particularly menacing.

Instead, he just lets Dean work his emotions out on today's vehicle and is lucky enough to see the tension melt from Dean as he sorts out whatever it is that's spinning around in his head.

__________

At four o'clock, Bobby tells both boys to get the hell outta his shop and find something better to do, and by then, Dean is back to his usual self, all charming smiles and jokes to his coworkers.

"Think we'll head home 'fore we go to The Roadhouse," Dean says to Cas as they climb into the Coupe. "Dick did say to meet him tonight, and it ain't even night yet, so I don't see the rush."

"I quite like your plan," Cas tell him with a soft smile.

They don't talk for most of the way home, mainly because Dean belts out the songs on the radio especially loud in hope of making Cas laugh. It's obviously a front for the man's insecurity, and that's confirmed when he snaps off the radio as they drive through town, staring at the road like he's got a personal vendetta against it.

"Cas, I've been thinkin'," he starts out.

"That's never a good sign."

Dean looks over with a genuine grin and pushes Cas playfully. "Look at you, Mr. Smart Aleck over here."

"What can I say? I learned from the best." He pauses just long enough to let the mood settle into something not quite so silly. "What were you thinking?"

"I was... I know you don't like racin' and that just my regular drivin' freaks you out sometimes, but..." Dean sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. Talking things out isn't his strong point, but he needs to make his point. "You make me feel like I can take on the world, Cas. And I would be honored if you'd ride with me when I race Roman."

The proposal takes a moment for Cas to digest. Racing with someone is something usually reserved for the racer's sweetheart, or it's done to impress someone. Cas knows that Dean is asking more than just the main question; Dean is asking if Cas would be willing to take one more step toward making their relationship public.

"Dean..."

"That was a stupid question. Forget I asked." Dean's jaw is clenched tight, his tone tense. He fears the worst in this situation, and he'd much rather get no answer than hear Cas tell him no.

"Enough with the self-deprecation, Dean. I'm not going to tell you know because I'm ashamed of you." Cas's eyes are narrowed accusingly, and the strength behind his words could give Dean a run for his money. "The only issue is the fact that I've rarely felt comfortable while in a vehicle, and racing increases the danger factor exponentially."

"But you'll be with me, Cas. You trust me, don't you?" the older man asks. He knows he's being petulant, can feel the pout as it tugs down the corners of his lips, but he can't be bothered to do anything about that.

"Of course I trust you, Dean. However, I do not trust Dick."

"Yeah, well. I'll race better with you there."

Cas just gives him that long-suffering look, obviously torn between wanting to be there to support Dean and his fear of the race. It's a few long moments before he finally opens his mouth to say softly, "Okay."

"Okay? You'll do it?" Dean grins and looks over at the younger man, his entire body visibly brightening.

"Yes, I'll do it."

Dean heaves out a breath of relief that he didn't know he'd been holding. "Goddamn. That means a hell of a lot, Cas."

Cas offers a half-hearted smile in Dean's direction as a gesture that he knows the depth of what they've just agreed on, but he says nothing more, and Dean feels a bit guilty that he used such low measures to make Cas agree to something he didn't want to.

"Hey," he murmurs softly, reaching over to place a steady hand on Cas's leg as he pulls into their driveway. "If you decide you don't wanna do it later, I won't be mad."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Dean."

The man in question smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I need to take a shower. You wanna whip somethin' up for dinner?" He pauses to waggle his eyebrows. "Or would you rather join me?"

Finally, Cas brightens enough to roll his eyes. "You're shameless."

"So is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes. On both counts."

__________

Dean and Cas roll into The Roadhouse at a few minutes past six. They had both planned over Cas's spaghetti dinner that they'd show up as late as possible in hopes of making Dick Roman absolutely furious, but as it turned out, neither of them could wait that long to find out what was going on. Curiosity killed the cat, and it certainly got the best of the Winchester-Novak household.

"Ho-ly shit," Dean whistles reverently as they find their usual spot. The place is dead, which is completely unheard of on a Friday evening. He wonders if that was Ellen's doing, upon hearing of the racer's meeting, or if it was Dick Roman, scaring everyone away.

As it stands, Dick's car is one car space away from Dean's, and the man is leaning on the hood, arms crossed over his chest with a smug grin splitting his face. The asshole still has that look about him, like he's candy-coated shit. He's flanked on both sides by two men whose names no one seems to have caught, but they both stand by Dick like he's a god and they're mere worshipers.

Dean and Cas share a quick look before they both exit the Coupe. They both head for the front of their car as well, with Dean leaning gently against the grille and Cas standing a bit stiffly next to him.

"Well, well, well," Dick sneers. "I see you're still suckin' cock with this little faggot."

"I see you still brought along your same ol' insults," Dean shoots back. "Tell me, do you really think I'm suckin' cock, or are you just tryin' to make yourself feel better?"

"You think you're cute, Winchester?"

"I think I'm adorable."

Dick lets loose one of his condescending smiles. "Lets cut the crap, shall we?"

"By all means." Dean uses one of his hands and motions toward Dick.

"I want another race, Winchester."

"Cool, another chance to kick your ass," Dean says with all the self-assurance he can muster. "When?"

"Tomorrow night. Nine."

"Usual place?"

"Usual place."

Dean nods his head in agreement at the terms. "Anything else?"

"No. I don't want anything special. Just a fair chance to show you that you ain't as hot as you think you are," Dick smiles wickedly.

Dean just laughs and looks down at a pebble that he's pushing around with the toe of his boot.

Dick tilts his head to the side. "Somethin' funny, Winchester?"

"Ah, it's nothin'," Dean snickers. "You're just blowin' so much smoke out your ass that you could power the whole damn Industrial Revolution."

"Aw, look at Dean, proving that he's got a brain in that big ol' head of his," is Dick's only response. "So do we have an agreement?"

"Sure thing," Dean agrees. He steps forward and sticks out his hand to shake. Dick walks up slowly, looking a little unsure of Dean's motives. Still, he doesn't wipe that annoying fuckin' grin off his face, not even when he leans in close to hiss in Dean's ear.

"Mark my words, Winchester. I'll ruin your name, no matter what it takes." His breath is hot against Dean's ear, and Dick glares over the man's shoulder at Cas. The younger man holds his ground and simply glares right back, God-sent fury residing deep in his eyes.

Dean pulls back before the man can say anything else and offers a smile of his own, more mocking than any of Dick's. "Yeah, hotshot. We'll see 'bout that."

They both retreat slowly to their respective cars, not removing their glare from one another. Dick is making his skin fucking crawl with his ominous bullshit, and Dean can't stand it, but he sure as hell won't back down from the challenge. He didn't work for this position for years just to back down from one race.

"I'll be waiting to see you and your boy-toy tomorrow, Winchester," Dick tells him, that same damn mocking smile on his face. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Dean can't come up with a good enough response for the situation, so he just salutes Dick, then flips him off as he and Cas climb back into the Coupe. Dick and his gang don't move as Dean and Cas drive away, but the leader of the pack waves them off as they go.

The air in the car is heavy with the lingering tension from the meeting. It blankets them like a heavy quilt in the middle of summer, and it's so damn stifling that Dean cracks a window. He can feel Cas's eyes raking over his body, the glance full of worry. Dean doesn't turn to meet his gaze. He just keeps his eyes focused on the road.

"Dean, what did Dick say to you?" Cas asks. His tone of voice is commanding and worried at the same time.

Dean shrugs.

"Tell me what he said."

"He, uh, told me that he plans on kicking my ass," Dean tells him. It's a lie, but not completely. Part of ruining his name would be kicking his ass.

Cas stares him down, and the guilt about lying burns holes in Dean's skin. He knows that Cas knows he's not telling the full truth, but the younger man doesn't say anything about it. It isn't worth causing an altercation over. The information doesn't seem particularly crucial; it's enough for Cas to know that Dean doesn't want him to hear it.

"I'm still gonna race him."

"I know."

Dean finally looks over at Cas through the corner of his eyes, a slight smile just beginning to touch his lips. It's only momentary, but he knows that he has to show his appreciation for the man beside him somehow.

They're both too lost in their own thoughts to engage in conversation, but the ride home is blessedly short. Cas and Dean are both on edge, and once the front door closes behind them, Cas decides to work that out productively by grabbing Dean's hips and turning him around so that he can press the both of them into the door.

"Shit," Dean breathes out. All thoughts of Dick Roman are temporarily wiped out of Dean's mind, and he has a feeling Cas knows that he's doing it. Cas has a tendency of doing that, of taking charge when shit gets rough and fucking Dean senseless so that the man has a few moments of peace. Ever since he took charge for the first time, he's been utterly insatiable.

He moves to kiss Cas, but the man twists his fingers into Dean's hair and yanks his head back, exposing Dean's neck to his advances. The younger man takes advantage of the prone position and litters Dean's neck with kisses and bite marks.

Had Cas not gathered Dean's wrists and held them together above his head, the older man is sure that his knees would have given out by now. All he can do in terms of reciprocation for all of Cas's attention is to grind his hips lamely into the man's and utter strings of senseless phrases that he knows Cas loves.

"I want you to feel me tomorrow," Cas growls against the underside of Dean's jaw. "I want everyone to see my marks and know that you belong to me."

"God, Cas," Dean groans. He likes to pride himself on being a master of talking dirty, but put Cas in control, and he acts like he's a fifteen and losing his virginity for the first time.

"Where do you want me to take you, Dean?" he asks. His piercing blue eyes stare straight into Dean's, and it's disorienting.

"Um," Dean says. He just can't figure out how to address a direct question, not when Cas's knee is slowly rubbing against his hardening cock, when the man is looking at him with so much unmasked lust. "Bedroom," he finally gasps out.

Cas catches Dean's bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth momentarily before letting go and dragging the both of them to the bedroom.

As soon as they're inside, Dean finally gets enough sense about himself that he's able to pull Cas in for a messy kiss. They break only to strip of their jackets and shirts before they're nipping at one another's lips and swiping tongues through one another's mouths.

Once they kick off their jeans and underwear in a series of rather uncoordinated motions, Dean decides to take some semblance of control for a few minutes by pushing Cas toward the bed. The man seems a little surprised when the backs of his knees strike the end of the bed, and he falls backward easily with Dean climbing on top of him. Cas slides his hands around to hold onto Dean's hips as the breath is kissed from him. He drags the man's hips down onto his own, the friction of skin on skin absolutely glorious.

"Dean," he finally groans. "You have ten seconds to get on your back."

The older man doesn't question anything when it comes to sex, so he immediately complies to Cas's demand. He rolls over and scrambles farther up the bed. Cas, in turn, is reaching into the nightstand for the lube to slick up his cock.

"Cas," Dean whispers as the man crawls over to him.

Cas supports himself with one hand as he and Dean kiss. The other once again snakes around the man's waist. "Dean, I want to try something new."

"Okay," he breathes. "Okay. What do you want to do?"

The younger man rolls over so that his back is resting against the headboard, and he pulls Dean up so that he's straddling him. One hand finds its way to Dean's cheek, and their gazes are locked once more as Cas murmurs, "This."

"This is good," Dean agrees, nodding. "This is real good."

Cas gets his almost-smile on his face for just a moment before he leans in and kisses the other man. As he does, he gently slides into the other man.

Dean bites back the groan that threatens to escape from his lips. However, Cas does not. The noise that comes out of his mouth is low and guttural, and for a moment, Dean just has to pause and file that one away in his memory.

And then, Cas begins to move, and any attempt at forming a conscious thought that doesn't revolve around the way Cas is grinding into him is eradicated. All of a sudden, he's just scrambling for purchase on Cas's body, looking for somewhere to grab hold of the man's skin and just meld the two of them together for eternity. Dean can't get much more than a fistful of Cas's hair with one hand while the other slides under the man's arm to rest on his back. Their foreheads press together, each gasp from each man mingling together.

"Dean." The name is wrenched from Cas's throat almost unwillingly, and being so, is rough and wrecked. It's one of Dean's favorite fucking sounds. Cas's hands fly up to grip the other man's body. One rests on Dean's bicep, the other on his hip. He's gripping damn tight, too, and if he leaves a bruise, then that's all the better.

Their grasp on each other is tight, and even though Cas isn't going easy on Dean with his thrusts, they don't break apart for longer than a second. Cas is fucking precise, too, making sure to locate and brush against Dean's prostate with every thrust, keeping their bodies pressed close so that Dean's cock gets friction from his abdomen that his hands can't provide.

Neither of them can find words to say; their lung capacity is used for the simple act of their quickened breathing. Wasted air, sweat, and friction gathers in the spaces between them, the spaces held only by the staring of their pleasure-blown eyes. Dean can feel the heat pooling in his stomach, and he knows he won't be lasting much longer. From the way Cas is gripping onto him even tighter, he knows the same is true for the other man.

"Cas, baby," Dean whispers, but the words are nipped from his lips by Cas's teeth, and Dean finds himself grasping the hard planes of the other man's body like they're a life raft in the sea of his chaotic existence.

Cas gives a soft little grunt at that, and it's enough to finally send Dean over the edge. He comes in hot spurts against their chests while babbling out Cas's name over and over, staring straight into the man's eyes. Castiel, for his own part, lets out a completely broken cry and comes moments later with a slack jaw, completely unable to form a single word.

For a few long and blissful moments, they stay just like that as their chests heave in an effort to replenish their spent oxygen.

"We should clean up," Cas says softly, and his voice is deeper and more gravely than usual, and Dean takes pride in knowing that it was his body that ripped all of those glorious noises from the other man's chest.

"Yeah. Yeah, good idea," Dean nods breathlessly.

"Shower?"

"Don't think I can stand up, Cas."

Limbs are extracted from their strongholds in the skin of lovers, and Cas gropes blindly over the edge of the bed for something to wipe the come and sweat from their bodies.

"Cas. Cas, is that my t-shirt?! Don't- _ugh_."

Dean throws his arms up in defeat as Cas uses yet another one of his t-shirts to clean the both of them. It isn't the most sophisticated way, but Cas has learned to drop away most of his previous conceptions on what and what not to do.

"Always my shirts, man. I'm not gonna have a damn thing left to wear soon," the older man grumbles as Cas uses a clean sleeve to wipe off Dean's forehead with the kind of serious intensity usually reserved for surgeons. "Why's it always my stuff?"

"It was there." And then Cas's lip quirks up just a bit, visible to Dean even in the dark.

"You're lucky you're cute," Dean mumbles, and for his efforts, Cas rewards him with a soft kiss to the forehead.

Finally, they roll apart, and Dean immediately drops onto his pillow and nuzzles down into it with a sigh. When Cas doesn't join him quickly enough, he reaches over and tugs the man down next to him. Castiel wiggles around until he can look into Dean's one open eye.

"Dean, are you going to bed?" he asks with his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Mhm," comes Dean's tired reply.

"It's only eight thirty."

"'M tired, Cas." He throws an arm around Cas's waist and pulls the man closer, his face buried in the other man's hair. "'M tired, and I just wanna stay here with you until Sam or Bobby or someone comes and drags our asses outta bed 'fore I lose my job or somethin'."

Cas chuckles softly and simply settles into the protective warmth of Dean's embrace, wrapping his own arm around the other man as well. Dean is already out like a light, his mouth hanging open in a way that only serves to further endear him to Castiel.

"I love you, Dean," the man whispers into the black night. He presses a gentle kiss to Dean's hand, and his last thought before he falls asleep is that Dean doesn't slow down for anything, not for his enemies, not for his friends, not for his own youth, and not even for sleep.

__________

Dean awakens sometime in the middle of the night. He rubs his eyes and waits for them to adjust to the pitch black darkness of the very, very early morning. The first thing he's really aware of is Cas's body next to him, the warmth that the man gives off, and the fact that they're so wrapped up in one another that it'd be impossible for him to try to extract himself without waking Cas, too.

But it's nice, he thinks, to sit in the silence of night and admire the man next to him. Even once his eyes adjust, he can't really make out many of Cas's features. He just watches the rise and fall of Castiel's body as the man breathes. It's a simple yet profound comfort to Dean, to know that the man still lives and breathes beside him, that Cas isn't just some figment of his demented imagination.

Dean is able to worm one of his arms out from beneath his pillow, and he uses it to card his fingers through Cas's wild hair.

He heard Cas when the man said he loved him earlier. Dean wasn't quite asleep yet, and his heart had picked up pace having heard the confirmation. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to form the three words on his lips to bring his lover the same comfort. Cas has offered at least ten declarations of affection for one of Dean's. But Dean can't. He tends to hurt the ones he loves. Sam, his parents, Bobby... they're all subject to Dean's mistakes, are forced to take the brunt of them. And Dean doesn't want to do that to Cas. He would never forgive himself if he pulled some stupid shit and lost the man forever. It never occurs to him that, perhaps, his lack of outward statements could be misconstrued as his never having loved Cas at all.

But, for now, Dean is riding on cloud nine. Even with the worry for tomorrow's race churning somewhere deep within his subconscious, he can't find it in himself to feel anything but happiness, because Cas is there. Cas is breathing, is alive, is loving and caring and a thousand things Dean never asked for and never felt that he deserved. And that's enough for him.

The repetition of running his fingers through Cas's hair lulls Dean to sleep.


	22. Twenty-Two

Word about the race gets around in record time, even though Dean and Cas know they didn't tell anyone, and it's hard to imagine Dick running around to promote himself.

Nevertheless, almost the entire morning is filled with the sound of the phone ringing off the hook. People are calling for a variety of different reasons: to confirm the details of the race, to wish Dean luck, to ask if they can ride next to Dean in the race, and, in a few rare occasions, to tell Dean that he's crazy for even agreeing. The last one, really, is only perpetuated by Sam, Jess, and Bobby.

It only takes a few rings for Dean to get fed up enough to yank the phone off the hook so that they can have a few moments of peace. They're already on edge from having been rousted too early from their comfortable sleep, and Cas excuses himself to take a shower while Dean sits at the kitchen table and contemplates the best way to demolish the phone before him.

He's still sitting there, clad in nothing but his underwear and smoking cigarette after cigarette, when Cas returns.

"I haven't seen you do that in a long time," Cas points out softly as he takes his seat next to Dean with two warm mugs of coffee in his hands. He slides one over to Dean.

He looks up from his ashtray and asks, "What?"

"Smoke." Cas nods to the cigarette still dangling between Dean's lips.

"Oh." He takes one last drag before he crushes it out in the ashtray. Then, he rubs his eyes with one hand. "Shit's stressin' me out, I guess."

"Dean, I know you don't want to hear me say it again, but if it's this stressful for you, perhaps it would be beneficial for you to rethink this race." Cas speaks softly, almost addressing his mug as opposed to Dean.

"You know I can't quit, Cas. It's..." Here, he pauses and looks down at the table like the wood grain will give him the answers and the words he's searching for. "I'd rather fail than give up. I can't fuckin' handle just... just quitting."

Cas reaches over and places a reassuring hand over Dean's. He doesn't need words to express what he's trying to say; all it takes is that one simple gesture, and Dean looks up at him with that crooked, broken smile, like he just can't believe that the man is still there.

"I should pay you for listenin' to all my sappy shit," he jokes as he turns his hand around to squeeze Cas's. It's one of his greatest assets. Don a smile, and the world smiles with you.

"Lord knows I wouldn't listen to you if I was so inclined," the other man says. His own lips quirk up just slightly.

"Listen, I just wanna forget about tonight for a little while. 'M tired of hearin' about Dick Roman; it's like the only damn thing anyone ever wants to talk about," Dean says, staring earnestly into Cas's eyes. "I just want today to be about me an' you."

Cas's smile widens. "I'd like that very much, Dean."

"I was thinkin' maybe... well, last time you tried to dance with me, you said my dancin' was 'atrocious'," Dean insinuates with an infectious grin on his face. He gives Cas his best puppy dog eyes, the ones Sam can whip out without a second thought.

Castiel smiles back. "Are you asking me to teach you to slow dance?"

Dean's eyes flicker down to the table again, but he's still smiling. He shrugs. "Maybe."

"I get to pick the music?"

"Sure."

The younger man lets out a soft huff of amusement. "I never thought the day would come. Dean Winchester asking to learn to dance and allowing someone else to pick the music," Cas says with amusement as he stands up.

"Awh, shuddup, I let you pick the music!" Dean exclaims as the man walks out of the room. "Sometimes."

Castiel doesn't elicit any response, and Dean simply waits for the man. He can hear Cas rummaging around in their record collection in search of something. Dean just sips on his coffee and waits as the man finds something that he deems suitable.

Soon enough, the familiar sound of saxophones drift into the kitchen, and Dean can't help but groan. It's Rags to Riches by Tony Bennett, and it was huge a few years back. For a while, it seemed like every time he turned on the radio, this song was playing.

Cas appears and holds one hand out to Dean.

"Cas, I hate this song," Dean whines, throwing his head back. "I've heard it a million times, man."

"You allowed me to pick the music, and I happen to like it. Now, are you going to dance with me or not?"

Dean glares for a moment more, but he puts his coffee cup down on the table and takes Cas's hand. The latter pulls the both of them into the living room, where there's more space.

"I know you can't lead, so follow me," Cas states with the same level of sincerity that is usually reserved for medical operations. He laces the fingers of his right hand with those of Dean's left and places one hand on Dean's hip, leaving the other man to place his hand on Cas's.

"What now?" Dean asks.

Cas almost laughs; Dean is good at many things, and what he's not good at, he fakes with confidence. And yet it's something as simple as dancing that finally pushes him completely out of his comfort zone. It's ridiculously endearing.

"Now we move."

Dean's eyes widen, like this is too much for him.

"Oh, don't give me that look. Just simple steps. Follow where I lead," Cas instructs. He tilts their bodies just slightly and follows with his feet, taking a small step to the right. Dean's reaction is delayed, and no matter how many times Cas urges him to move, it's like Dean is stuck in his echo.

"'M shit at this," Dean grumbles to himself as he stares at their feet. He tries to move at the same time Cas does, but he just can't seem to get the timing right. "Makes no damn sense. I can see tiny shifts in a racer when I'm behind the wheel, but I can't fuckin' dance."

Cas chuckles and nudges Dean's face up so that he can press a kiss to the man's lips. Finally, Dean looks at the man, and his heart just about melts. Cas's hair is still a little damp, and his eyes are crinkled in such a profound joy that it wipes any other thoughts from Dean's mind. And _goddamn_ , the sunlight is filtering in through their curtains, and it just makes the blue seem so much more intense, as if it's a promise of heaven. Dean's so mesmerized that he completely forgets to move, and they both stumble with Cas's next step.

"You're supposed to move, Dean," he says softly through a smile.

"Sorry. Forgot." The man clears his throat. His eyes flick down before meeting Cas's gaze again. "Alright. Let's go."

"I think," Cas begins cautiously, "it would be better if we tried something else."

"Okay," Dean nods. Hopefully whatever it is that Cas wants to try will be a lot easier than the shit he's tripping through right now.

So, Cas lets go of Dean's hand and slides both arms around the man's waist so that they're pressed chest-to-chest. Dean, in turn, has no other choice than to wrap his own around Cas's neck. It allows them to press their foreheads together and simply stare, just like always.

Now, they don't move so much as they do sway side to side to the music, and this, Dean can do. The sound of Jo Stafford's You Belong to Me starts up on the radio. Cas's whole face perks up; Dean knows it's one of the man's favorite songs, and it must mean a lot to share this moment together while the song plays on in the background.

"I enjoy this song very much," Cas states with a smile that reaches his eyes.

"Isn't about World War II?" is the only response Dean can make.

"Yes, but it reminds me of you."

It's Dean's turn to smile. "Never woulda pegged you for a romantic, Cas."

"Just remember, darling, all the while: you belong to me," the younger man sings along to the music. He's about as bad of a singer as Dean is a dancer, but the man looks like he's enjoying himself.

"You gonna serenade me?" Dean asks with a cheeky grin.

"Would it work?"

"I dunno, you're kinda terrible at singing."

Castiel lets out a heartfelt laugh and presses a kiss to Dean's lips before he picks up the song again: "I'll be so alone without you. Maybe you'll be lonesome, too, and blue."

The words hit Dean straight in the heart with such a force that one would think it was cupid's arrow. And damn the man, but Dean is so caught up in the moment that even he begins to sing the next verse. As soon as the words, "Fly the ocean in a silver plane" leave his lips, Cas is smiling so wide that it if he were any happier, his face might split in half.

When the final chorus kicks in, they're both singing together, and after they sing the final 'you belong to me', they dip together for a gentle and surprisingly chaste kiss that lingers for much longer than something so simple usually would.

The truth of the matter is that there are a lot of emotions coursing through their veins, and neither one wants to say much about it. It's easier instead to lose themselves in one another.

Cas's arms wrap around Dean's waist, pulling them even closer. It prompts Dean to do the same around the man's neck, and he buries his head in the crook of Cas's neck. The younger man just sighs and presses soft kisses into Dean's hair, because that simple bit of comfort is all the man needs right now.

They would make quite a sight if anyone else had been in the room. Dean is clad in nothing but his underwear, and Cas is only wearing a pair of pajama bottoms that he slid on after his shower. Two grown men are holding each other like if they let go, they'll disappear to different corners of the world, and for them, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. After a year, they've become almost inseparable, and the thought of the other one being in danger is almost too hard for them to bear.

Fingers grip bare skin tight as each man breathes in the unmistakable scent of his lover. Gentle, periodic kisses spread over exposed necks and ruffled hair. The light embraces the two united men like a welcoming blanket, and it brings them a sense of calm, of safety, even in the midst of emotional tempests.

Dean and Cas don't let go for a long time.

__________

It's just past nine when Dean decides to put in an appearance with Cas at The Roadhouse. He knows everyone has been itching to get all of the details, and it wouldn't be right for him to withhold everything until the moment of the race.

And, as he expected, the place is packed with overeager souls jonesing for any scrap of information that they can get. The moment he steps one motorcycle-booted foot out of the Coupe, a whole mob of people begin meandering their way over to him, each with their own set of questions.

"Okay, enough!" Dean exclaims through all of the chatter. "I'm freakin' starving, so I'm gonna get somethin' to eat, and I only want a _very small handful_ of people taggin' along to interrogate me."

It earns a few laughs, but everyone is respectful of Dean's wishes. As it turns out, Dean and Cas take the largest table in the restaurant, allowing Sam, Jess, Meg, Garth, Pamela, Lisa, and Benny to crowd around. Even Jo sticks by them for a while after delivering a few orders to those who haven't eaten.

The first question comes from Jess, who's more concerned than excited: "So you're actually going through with it?"

"Don't see why not," Dean shrugs with a mouthful of food.

"But it's dangerous," Sam protests.

"'S always dangerous, Sammy. Kinda part of the job description."

The younger Winchester rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Okay," Dean begins, setting down his cheeseburger to focus his attention on everyone else. "I know this one's dangerous. I know Dick's a, well, dick. But I'm not gonna sit here listenin' to everyone tell me to back down. It's not gonna happen. Got it?"

"Got it," comes the half-hearted response from the rest of the table. 

"Good." Satisfied, Dean picks up his cheeseburger once more.

"So how long until the race?" Meg asks.

"Dunno. What time is it?"

"9:40-ish."

"Then it's in 'bout an hour."

"You got any crazy tricks up your sleeve? Gonna pull a fast one on ol' Dick?" Garth asks with his usual goofy grin, like the whole idea is the best thing he's ever heard.

"Garth, if I had a surprise, do you really think I'd tell ya?"

"Well, no, but-"

It goes on like this for some time, and eventually the group disbands. Everyone but Dean, Cas, Sam, and Jess have to go spread the word. Their usual family camaraderie resumes to a normal level despite the tension that has everyone wound tight. Even Ellen stops by to wish Dean good luck because, "Lord knows how many times I've had to convince Sheriff Mills that nothin's goin' on. You better make it worth my while, Dean."

Before they know it, their hour is up. Everyone clamors into their cars and heads down to the designated road outside of town for the drag race. Dean and Cas take up the rear a few minutes after everyone else, since Dean insisted on making a dramatic entrance.

They hold hands on the seat between them, palms slick with nervous sweat that neither man has the courage to speak up about. It's all so surreal for Dean. This race has been hot news for months, and now it has finally creeped up on him. He doesn't know if it's the anticipation that's formed the lead weight in his stomach, or if it's something else.

Through the veil of his thoughts, Dean hears a soft, "I love you," come from Cas's direction. Cas looks and sounds worried as hell, but like he's doing his best to keep it under wraps for Dean's sake. Dean can only flash the man his most brilliant and reassuring smile and kiss the back of Cas's hand before they arrive at their destination.

The place is almost unmaneuverable. There are cars everywhere, and for every vehicle, there's at least three people. Dick is already there with his car parked at the starting line. The man himself is leaning against the trunk of his T-bird, a sly smile on his face.

Dean pulls up next to him and exits the car again, Cas at his side. This time, however, the group that surrounds him is composed almost entirely of eager women, and the eyes of everyone are trained on Dean.

"So, Dean. Who'll it be?" Pamela asks, wearing a devilish grin on her red painted lips.

Dean looks at her, confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Riding with you, Dean!" she exclaims, playfully pushing him. "You got someone in mind?"

Briefly, Dean's eyes flicker to Cas. Then, he says, "Yeah, I do."

"Well, don't keep us on our toes!"

"Cas," he blurts out bluntly. Dean clears his throat, looks around at the pairs of wide yes, and repeats. "Cas is ridin' with me."

"But, Dean," Pamela laughs, confused. "Your girl is supposed to be ridin' with you."

"Yeah," I know." Dean stares at her intently. "And Cas is ridin' with me."

Any and all murmurs of the crowd have long since ceased, but now they begin up again with exponentially more fervor. Everyone is demanding of their neighbor an explanation to ensure that their ears are in working order. Dean Winchester is riding with a _man_? It's an absolutely unthought of notion. Any questions about what Dean might do behind closed doors were quelled the last time Dick Roman was in town. Now, people are curious once again, but now is not the time to dwell on the subject.

Gabriel and Sam both storm up to the men and yank their respective brothers off to the side.

"Dean, are you _insane_?" Sam demands in a hushed but pissed tone. "Do you realize what this could mean for you guys?"

"I've got it under control, Sammy," Dean assures his younger brother. He puts one hand on Sam's shoulder and looks him straight in the eye.

"Under control? Dean, what you're doing is dangerous and stupid, and y'know what? I can forgive you for doing dumb shit to yourself. But dragging Cas down with you? Dean, that is just-"

"Stop," the older man states firmly. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy. I promise."

Meanwhile, Gabriel is unwittingly following in Sam's footsteps by exclaiming. "Castiel, are you nuts?"

"I don't-"

"I could get over you dating him, even though he's a hundred kinds of bad news. But what are you _thinking_ , Cassie?" For emphasis, Gabriel whacks Cas upside the head. "Getting in a dangerous car with a dangerous dickbag? Do you even understand the significance of what Dean just said?"

"I understand, Gabriel," Cas tells his brother.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Gabriel asks with concern. He places a hand on Cas's forehead to check the man's temperature, but it gets swatted away almost immediately.

"I assure you that I'm fine, and before you ask, yes, I am the same Castiel Novak."

The older man looks at Cas with pursed lips. "I don't like this."

"It's my life. It is not for you to like or dislike," Cas states with just a bit of a bitter undertone to his voice that stems from years of being told that his decisions aren't living up to expectation.

At that, Gabriel's face softens. He pats Cas's arm and says. "Okay. Just... be safe, little brother."

And then, Dean is there, asking, "Ready?"

Cas nods solemnly. He offers one last meaningful look of thanks to Gabriel. Even Dean nods at the older Novak as they go. It's the last peaceful moment that they all share before Dean claps his hands and exclaims, "Let's go beat us some Dick!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be updating twice a week now (on Mondays and Thursdays), since I've actually devoted this past week to finishing the story.


	23. Twenty-Three

Dick still hasn't wiped the smirk from his face when Dean and Cas approach, and, to say the least, it's a bit unsettling. In fact, Dick is radiating a very cocky aura with the way he's standing: hands in his pockets, leaning against his car with his legs crossed.

The first words out of his mouth are, "So, you're bringin' your little boy-toy."

"He came to see me smoke your ass," Dean retorts with a grin of his own.

"Shame he'll have to help scrape your ass offa the pavement."

At that moment, Ash appears out of the crowd separates Dean and Dick with a hand on their shoulders. "Okay, okay, compadres, let's keep our dicks in our pants, all right? These people are here to see a race!"

The crowd explodes with cheers and whistles of excitement, and Dean is glad t o see that even his recent announcement can't bring them down.

Dean decides to be the bigger man and turns to Dick, one hand outstretched. "Good luck," he says.

Dick takes his hand in a tight grip and laughs, "I'm not the one who's gonna need it."

The racers and Cas split to take their places in their respective cars. Dean shoots a thumbs-up to Cas once they're both seated.

"Hope you like lookin' at my taillights!" Dick calls cheerily as he slams his door.

Dean doesn't do more than lean over Cas to give Dick his best smile and flip him the bird.

"All right, Cas. Let's so this," Dean murmurs as he runs his hands over the steering wheel. Then, he turns the key in the ignition, and his baby roars to life. The familiar sound riles everyone up again, and they shout out encouragements to their favorite driver.

Meanwhile, Dick starts up his own car, and though it's met with almost no fanfare, Dean's heart sinks to realize that it sounds like a vicious creature ready to pounce.

He forces himself to put his mind into racing mode, where almost every subtle shift in his or his opponent's driving is figured into the plan of how he's gonna win this race. It's a skill he's spent years honing, and he's damn proud of it.

Ash steps out between the two cars, and everything goes quiet. The tension in the air is almost palpable as the man slowly raises his bandanna in the air as a flag. Each second that it remains up pushes everyone farther to the edge of their respective seat; the tension in the air is so thick that it almost becomes stifling. No one speaks, no one moves, no one even dares to breathe - 

And Ash brings the bandanna down in one quick motion. The trip hardly lasts the blink of an eye, but already, both cars are off, Dean on the left and Dick on the right.

For a few moments, it's a tight race. Both vehicles are neck-and-neck and so close together that Cas could reach an arm out and yank the wheel from Dick's hands if he was so inclined. After that initial burst, however, Dick begins to fall behind slowly, until pretty soon, only the very nose of his car remains in line with the middle of Dean's.

"Look at that," Dean comments softly, glancing at Dick in the rearview mirror. "Seems like he's-"

The action happens so fast that both Dean and Cas don't see it.

One moment, Cas is examining Dick's front end in the side mirror, and the next, it's so close he could touch it.

The Thunderbird's front end smashes into the side of Dean's coupe in a sudden burst of speed that crumples both cars.

Dean loses control of the car, even though he futilely tries to correct its path for a few seconds. He can feel searing pain in his lower half, and blood seeps from a few cuts in his arms, but goddammit, he still tries.

That is, until he glances over in the passenger seat.

The Coupe finally slams to a stop against the wreckage of Dick's car on the side of the road. Dean's head smacks against the steering wheel. He does his best to blink away the blackness that creeps into his line of vision.

"Cas?" he croaks. Then, he fully comprehends what he saw, and his head whips to see the other man so quickly that it hurts. "Cas!?"

The first thing he notices is that Cas is drenched in blood. Dean can see bones piercing through skin, can see glass shattered into the man's body, but he can't see Cas's face, because, he, too, was thrown against the dashboard. The only difference is that Cas simply stayed there.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growls. He shoves open the car door and he ignores the sharp pain in his right leg. Priority number one is pulling Cas out, getting him away from the car in case the gas tank blows, and seeing if his worst fears are confirmed.

Cas's door proves to be less of a problem than Dean had thought it would be. The shock of the impact twisted the metal so that it has popped almost completely out. However, the dashboard caved in on top of Cas's thighs. It's hard, especially with Cas being unconscious, but somehow, Dean manages. He pulls the dashboard up just enough that he can slide Cas out of its way. He slides one arm around the man's back and one under his legs. Then, Dean puts his weight on his good leg, and he lifts.

His own pain doesn't faze him. Dean soldiers through it, limping on the leg that hurts him as he carries Cas over to the other side of the road, murmuring any senseless thing he can think of and periodically screaming, "We need some help!"

Gently, he collapses to his knees and lets Cas rest on top of them so that he can hold the younger man in his arms. It seems wrong to do anything else, and it makes it easier to get a good look at Cas's face.

Cas's nose is obviously broken; it's pushed to one side and is gushing blood. But the thing that worries Dean the most is the gash splitting Cas's forehead all the way up to the crown.

"Dammit, Cas, don't you die on me," Dean whispers through an emotion-choked throat. "Shit, I'm so sorry. Shouldn't have made you come with me. Oh, shit." He looks back toward where the race started and shouts, hoarse, "Help!"

He tries to check Cas's pulse, but his hands are shaking so violently that he can't tell one way or another. He just laces their fingers together and rocks Cas back and forth. Tears break through the barriers he tried to set up against them.

The ache that rips through his entire body outshines any physical wounds. He can't believe that Cas is so mangled, that the body he held in his very own arms this morning could become so disfigured.

He chokes on a sob. "Cas, I'm so sorry. Please... you're family, Cas. You're all I got - all I _want_." His voice breaks off as he fights the emotions threatening to spill through. "Cas, I need you. I love you. _God_ , I never... I never said that enough, did I?

"It's gonna be okay, Cas. I love you. It's gonna be all right. I'm gonna make it all right for you."

"Dean!" The voice that reaches him is Sam's. Dean can only look up for a moment to catch sight of his brother running at him full-speed with a group of people behind him. "Dean, are you okay? Where's-?" Sam stops dead in shock as he sees Cas. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no!"

He, too, drops to his knees to run his eyes over Cas's gory form.

"I think I killed him, Sammy." Dean is so broken, but he still tries to hide it with a humorless laugh.

"Dean, you didn't. Cas is gonna be fine, okay? And it was Dick who hit you. This one's not on you" Sam runs a hand through his hair. "Lisa's goin' for an ambulance. You shouldn't-"

A sudden explosion startles both conscious men. Dean's head whips over in that direction, and he sees Dick's car up in flames. A few people have arrived at the scene to help out, and they all scatter away from the sight of the wreck, arms covering their faces.

Then, he returns his attention to Cas, and each time he blinks, a shock of both guilt and disbelief course through him, tearing new holes at his heart. A fresh bout of tears overtake him, even though he tries to hold them back. He just cradles Cas closer to him, whispering over and over that it's gonna be okay. He's not quite sure who he's trying to assure.

He doesn't notice the arrival of the ambulance until someone touches his shoulder and says, "We need to take your friend to the hospital now."

Dean looks up, lose, to find the kind but worried face of a paramedic looking down at him. "Please," Dean murmurs, "I can't leave him."

"We have a stretcher for you, too, don't worry." When Dean makes no attempt to move, he adds, "We have to get you friend to the hospital to take care of him. We can't do it out here."

The only things Dean remembers about the trip to the hospital are how terrifyingly limp Cas looked when the paramedics picked him up and trying to hold Cas's hand in and not being able to reach the other stretcher.

__________

Dean lies in the hospital bed, staring out the window at the dark street. It's been an hour since the crash, and he's discovered that his right leg is broken, and the few cuts that he has don't even warrant stitches. The leg was crushed beneath the weight of the dashboard, and it's been put in a cast. Since then, however, no one has been in to see him, and he's getting anxious. He wants to see Cas, to make sure the man is okay. Hell, he'd even go for seeing Sam or Bobby, just because a familiar face would help ground him.

Just as he resolves to get up and find out what's going on for himself, a haggard looking doctor lets himself into the room.

"I wanna see Cas," is the first demand that comes out of Dean's mouth.

"The young man you came in with?" the doctor asks, absently checking the papers he has on his clipboard. He takes a seat next to Dean's bed. "Son, there are more immediate matters to worry about."

"This is pretty damn immediate," Dean protests. "I need to make sure he's okay."

"Castiel Novak is undergoing emergency surgery at the moment. He's in a comatose state with serious head trauma."

Dean can't find it in himself to make his vocal chords work, so he whispers, "He's gonna live, though, right?"

"It would be a miracle if he did, Mr. Winchester." The doctor looks up at him with a subdued sympathy. "His injuries are serious, and we can only do so much for him. We simply don't have the capability to treat some of his wounds, though we're trying to keep him stable enough to ship to a larger hospital. As of right now, it simply does not look like he's going to make it."

Dean runs a hand over his face. His heart feels like it shatters at the news, and the crushing weight of guilt bears down harder on his shoulders. He hopes with all of his heart that they can stabilize the man.

"What about Dick?" Dean asks.

The doctor flips to the next page of his clipbord. "Dick Roman was pronounced dead at the scene. He was ejected through his windshield, and his neck broke on impact."

They're both silent for a few moments, Dean keeping his eyes closed as he tries to comprehend what he's just been told. Softly, he asks, "Is there any way Cas could... y'know, pull through?"

"We're doing the best we can, but, as I said, the damage is extensive. Right now, I would have to say that the probability of his surviving is under five percent."

Dean can't breathe. It feels like his organs are being dragged slowly from his body and are being replaced with a black, empty hole. The only thing left is his heart, but only because it's not done contorting and convulsing within him. It hurts, but he tries to focus on the fact that there's still a _chance_. He thinks of all the times that the weatherman predicted a ten percent chance of rain, and it ended up pouring all day. If only it works out that way.

"Can I see him?" The question is so soft and broken that Dean doesn't know how the doctor even hears him.

"No. No one is allowed to see him right now."

"Not even family?"

"No." The doctor stands up. "Your brother is signing you out. However, there's an officer here to speak with you before you leave. I'll send her in."

Dean heaves a sigh. All he wants is to see Cas, to make the man better. But, goddammit, he isn't allowed to. It still doesn't occur to him that Cas might not make it through. He still pictures the man bearing nothing more than a few scrapes on his arms.

He looks up when the door opens. Sheriff Mills walks in, notebook in hand and a longsuffering expression on her face. She and Dean have become well acquainted in his years of speeding tickets, vehicle violations, and noise complaints, and now they share something similar to a begrudging friends-but-enemies relationship.

"Dean, you're damn lucky you got people here who like you, because this is gonna be a whole lot easier for you," she says as she closes the door and makes her way to the seat by his bed.

"Whattya mean?"

"Well, I already interviewed a handful of people who were at the race, and everyone agrees that - what's his name? - Dick Roman caused the accident." She looks up at Dean with pursed lips. "'Course, the kid can't speak for himself, but the wreck compounds it."

"Then what're you talkin' to me for?" Dean asks tiredly.

"I want to hear it from your own mouth. For the record."

"We were racin', I was comin' out ahead. Then, next thing I know, Dick's car was kissin' mine, and Cas was bleeding..." Dean squeezes his eyes shut. He can't continue, not right now, when the pain is still so fresh.

"Well, at least you have a good alibi," Sheriff Mills sighs. "You're a damn lucky guy, Dean. The Novaks aren't pressing charges, they aren't suing. They don't want a damn thing out of you, and Lord knows I asked them twice if they were sure."

He tries to smile, but it winds up as more of a grimace. "What about Dick's family?"

"Nonexistent. The kid grew up in an orphanage, and he's got no next-of-kin."

"So I'm not in trouble?"

"Well, there's still the little matter of you drag racing illegally, but, believe it or not, someone's already bailed you out and paid your fines."

Dean's eyes go wide in surprise. After all that's happened, it's hard to believe that someone would _want_ to offer him anything in the way of kindness. He asks, "Who?"

"Bobby Singer."

Dean huffs out a breath of amusement, and he has to look away to keep his dignity, because he's almost ready to cry again. Bobby always pulls through when shit hits the fan. "Damn."

"Trust me, Dean, I was saying the same thing." She stands up and looks down at Dean. "Racing is illegal for a reason. After you're all healed up, I don't want to even catch you so much as _thinking_ about racing, or I'll peg you with such a crazy bail that the whole town couldn't get you out. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." She holds out a hand to him, and Dean looks at it curiously. "Well? Sam signed you outta this place. You wanna go home or what?"

Tentatively, Dean lets Sheriff Mills drag his sorry ass out of the hospital bed and into a wheelchair. It speaks to how poorly he feels that he doesn't even protest her wheeling him out into the hall where Sam is waiting for him.

"Dean." Sam pushes himself out of the chair and rushes over to meet his brother with a very awkward bent-over hug.

"He's free to go," Sheriff Mills states. "Got off easy this time."

"Thank you so much," Sam says as he moves to relieve her of her position. Sheriff Mills waves in parting before she heads down the hall. Sam, in turn, begins pushing his brother the opposite way. "They have some crutches for you in the nurse's station."

"Where's Bobby?" Dean asks bluntly.

"He went home."

That's it for conversation between them. Dean can't find it in himself to so much as have the desire to open his mouth. He just wants to see Cas, and he thinks that, maybe, he can go home, and Cas will be waiting there for him. It would all be a terrible joke that Dean would act pissed about, though in reality he'd be secretly relieved.

There's a waiting room next to the nurse's station, and Sam wheels Dean into it. "It might be a minute for me to get your stuff. Are you okay with waiting here?"

"Yeah, no problem."

Inside sit Gabriel, Anna, and Lucius, all of whom are in various stages of distress. Once they see Dean, they all perk up.

"Dean," Gabriel states in urgent greeting. "Dammit, man, what the hell happened?"

"I... Dick ran us off the road," he answers quietly. Then, he realizes that he's talking to someone who's losing his brother, and he's the one that caused it. "I'm so sorry, you guys. I tried to help him. I tried to be nothin' but good to him, and I-I-I fucked up every step of the way."

"Dean, don't say that," Anna says earnestly through her tears. She opens her mouth to add more, but something in the doorway stops her.

"Oh, no, please continue, Dean." It's a voice that Dean has heard but a few times in his life, but he recognizes it instantly.

"Zachariah," he spits out.

"Dean Winchester," the older Novak says with a voice coated in venom. "I knew you were bad news from the moment I heard your filthy name uttered in my home." He walks around to face Dean. "You corrupted Castiel, Dean. When he first met you, he was lost, and you poked and prodded until he turned against his own family in exchange for _this_."

"Some family you were," Dean scoffs. "He's an _adult_ for Chrissakes, and you were still grounding him like he was a kid! You treated him like shit, and you know it! At least I _tried_!"

"Listen to me, you insufferable _primate_ ," Zachariah seethes, leaning over to growl right in Dean's face. "I was protecting him. You pervert everything you touch. I knew what was best for him, and look at him now." He makes a wide motion at the room. "You're _killing him_ , Dean. He's in the hospital because _you_ put him here."

The man straightens his back. "Tell me, boy, did I ever force Castiel onto his deathbed with my actions?"

"Zachariah, enough!" Lucius shouts.

The man in question whips around. "Oh, don't tell me you're siding with him, too!"

"Do you think Castiel would want this?" Lucius steps forward to stand right in his brother's face.

"I don't give one good goddamn-"

At that moment, Sam bursts into the room in a panic. He's hauling a pair of crutches under his arm. "Dean, we need to leave."

"But-"

" _Now_ , Dean."

"Okay," the older man nods with no small degree of concern. Within the blink of an eye, Sam grabs hold of the wheelchair and just about breaks into a run as he pushes Dean down the hall.

Dean opens his mouth to ask what's going on, but he catches sight of a hospital bed being shoved down the hall, surrounded by several frantic doctors and nurses.

"Vitals are dropping fast!"

"Get him to the operating room, fast!"

"We're losing him!"

"Goddammit, he's not breathing!"

They pass by Dean and Sam in an instant, and the figure on the bed is mostly obscured from view by a veil of doctors surrounding it, but Dean doesn't miss the sight of a familiar homemade ring on the limp left hand of the body in the bed.

"Shit, shit, shit," Sam hisses.

"Sammy, that was Cas." He says it as though it's just dawning on him before repeating, louder, "Sammy, that was Cas! Go back there!"

"They're not gonna let you see him, Dean!"

"I don't care, just _take me back_!"

"This is a bad idea," Sam groans, but he does comply with his brother's wishes. He wheels Dean back to the nurse's station to inquire about Cas, but the Novak family is already there speaking to someone.

Dean barely catches the words, "...has been pronounced dead," before his world crashes down around him.

"Dean, I'm so sorry," Sam breathes sadly.

The older Winchester doesn't hear him. Everything goes blank in his mind. He doesn't think or so much as register Sam taking him out to Jess's pickup and helping him inside. Dean doesn't notice the ride home. It's only when Sam pulls into the now-empty driveway of Dean's house that the man comes back to earth.

"You can stay with us, you know," Sam informs a lifeless-looking Dean.

"That's okay, Sammy." He turns to look at his brother as he says it, and the streetlights shine down just right, illuminating the wet streaks that run down Sam's face.

"Then let me stay with you."

"Jesus, Sam, I'll be fine."

The younger man exhales slowly and stares out the windshield. "I don't like this, Dean."

"Look, Sam," Dean sighs as he drags his crutches off of the floor. "I just... I need a few hours to myself."

Sam hesitates for a long moment, but eventually, he nods. "Okay. Just... make sure you call me in the morning. All right?"

"Sure thing."

With that, he opens the door of the truck and slides out, mindful of his broken leg. He gives a short salute to Sam before stepping into his home.

As soon as he's inside the door, however, he stops. He has no idea where to go from here. His entire life for the past year has revolved around Cas. Now that the man is gone...

The thought hurts too much, and the house seems empty and hostile with no messy-haired Novak inhabiting it. Shadows seem to creep in from all sides.

Dean realizes that the only way to solve his issue right now is to sleep. If he can be dead to the world, then he can't feel, and if he can't feel, then he won't know that Cas is gone from his life for good.

So, he drags his sorry ass the distance to the bedroom, and he pitches his crutches off to the side as he collapses onto the bed fully clothed. It's his immediate reaction to reach out for Cas, but the man isn't there, and it just feels wrong. He sighs, but he slides Cas's pillow over and figures that he can just use that as a substitute.

Dean buries his face into the soft fabric and breathes in deep. The damn thing smells so strongly of Cas that it brings tears to Dean's eyes. He's spent so long staying strong for everyone around him that, now that he's alone, it's as though a dam has broken. All the tears he could have cried earlier but didn't pour out of him now in angry, heart-wrenching sobs. His fingers twist into the pillow and clutch it tight. He can feel his whole body shake with each cry and each shaky inhale. The longer it goes on, the more the black hole inside of him consumes him, until it feels like there's no more Dean Winchester left, that he's just a body with no essence inside but pain.

He can't believe that he's come to this level, and for one brief second, he wonders what Sam would think if he walked in on Dean in such a state. It's not a thought that lasts long, because the only things in Dean's mind involve Cas. He goes over every detail of their relationship and finds that he simply can't remember everything, and it hurts him more than anything else. The sobs rip from his body once more.

But after that, he starts to calm down. Slowly, Dean lets his fingers relax their grip on the abused pillow, and he lets it go. Sleep, obviously, is not in the agenda for tonight. He fumbles for his crutches and flips on the lightswitch, looking around. The bed is still unmade from when they left it this morning, and Cas's dirty towels still sit in a pile from this morning.

Cas.

Dean moves from the room and notes everything that reminds him of the man. The bedroom where Cas first slept when he moved in. The books on the table, the ones Cas was reading to get a headstart in his next year's literature class. Coffee mugs, the table where they sat every morning, the cupboard where he had discovered Cas was ticklish, a flower Cas had picked up on a walk a few days ago and stuck into Dean's hair, the stereo that still holds the record they danced to this morning. Even the sight of the couch hurts, because Cas once existed here, and now he doesn't.

Cas isn't going to be in this house anymore.

The books are going to go untouched. Sheets unslept in. The coffee mugs will be washed and put away, the flower will die, and the record will likely never be listened to again, not outside of Dean's nostalgia or masochism.

Cas isn't here anymore.

Cas is never going to be here again.

Dean can't do this. He can't stay in this house, where every surface reminds him of the man he lost. He can't deal with the judgmental eyes that are sure to scrutinize his every step and the whispers that will follow him like dust. He can't stay in the place where Cas's family lives, because his mere presence will cause them pain. He _can't_.

An idea pops into Dean's head, and it has Dean rushing to the phone. He hooks it back up and dials a number. It rings for a while, but finally, a gruff voice answers.

"Bobby," Dean breathes in relief, "I have a favor."

__________

Bobby shows up at Dean's door twenty minutes later. He throws his arms around the younger man as soon as he walks in. "Goddammit, boy," he whispers, clutching Dean tight.

"Thanks for helpin' me, Bobby," Dean mumbles.

"You sure 'bout this, Dean?" the older man asks as he lets go. He has a questioning look on his face. "You know, Sheriff Mills let me take your car to the scrapyard. You don't want to stay and fix 'er up?"

"Bobby, I can't," he whispers, broken. He wants nothing more than to fix up the Coupe. She's been with him his whole life, and he had planned to keep her until the day he died. But now... he can't even imagine getting behind the wheel of the car again. He knows that every time he looks over at the passenger seat, he'll see Cas. It's the car that he killed his lover in; he doesn't want that back.

He wouldn't be able to stick around long enough to fix her up, anyway.

"Well, I brought ya a pickup. It's a little rusty, but it'll do," Bobby says softly.

"Thanks, Bobby. I can't even tell you how much this means to me."

They're both quiet for a moment, staring at each other. Bobby knows Dean's plan. He knows that the man he's raised like his son for so long is hurt, is broken, and is leaving. Needless to say, he's damn worried. John fell into alcoholism when he lost Mary, and Bobby knows he hasn't been a better example after the death of his wife, and he hopes to God Dean doesn't fall into that same vicious cycle.

He wishes that Dean would stay, if only to leave Bobby with a better last image of the man than his red-rimmed eyes and haggard frame.

"You be safe, ya hear?" Bobby finally tells Dean. "And if you need somethin', you call me up. No questions asked."

"Yes, sir." Dean hesitates for a moment, looking down at the bags that he has packed. "Please don't... please don't tell Sammy until tomorrow."

"Don't know why you won't leave him a note, but fine," the older man grumbles.

Dean breathes out a sigh, letting out the remainder of one last mountain of nerves. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing ya."

"Yeah," Bobby breathes. And then, he reaches over and pulls Dean in for a tight hug once more. He blinks back the tears that prickle in his own eyes before he lets go. "Keys're in the ignition."

Dean nods in thanks and picks up the back that he packed while Bobby made his way over. He heads over to the dirty white pickup truck that Bobby towed over and opens the door. But before he gets in, he waves to Bobby and gets a half-hearted response from the man as he tries to remain strong for Dean.

He hates this. He hates leaving Bobby, leaving Sam and Jess, but he can't see another choice. Everyone in this damn town is gonna look at him like a leper and treat him just the same. He doesn't want to see Cas's death reflected in the eyes of everyone he wants to talk to. He wants - _needs_ \- to go somewhere new.

But before he leaves town, he has one last destination in mind. He drives there almost unconsciously, having been going to this place for years. 

He thought about leaving without visiting it again, but goddammit, it just wasn't right.

On the way, he tries to turn on the radio, to cover up the deafening _silence_. It hasn't been this quiet since he met Cas.

_-all the while, you belong to me._

Dean smacks the radio off immediately. The words flood him with equal parts hurt and longing. They come from a time that feels so damn far away, even if it was only less than a day prior.

All he wants is to go back to that moment. to dance with Cas for the rest of the day and not leave the house. To turn down the race with Dick Roman, even if it did take away his title as being the best racer on the west coast, because he's lost it either way, but in this particular option, he's also lost Cas.

Dean pushes the thoughts to a dark corner of his mind, and he builds a wall up to keep them there. He can't 

With his broken leg impeding him, Dean drives the truck straight into the meadow that had become a place of almost holy reverence for him and Cas. Once he cuts the engine and slides out, he tries to stay as quiet as possible. It feels wrong to make a sound.

He carefully uses his crutches to make it to the boulder that sits overlooking the water, and he sits there.

For a very long time, Dean doesn't move. He can't so much as open his mouth for fear of the sobs that will echo out, so he waits. He doesn't quite know what he's here for yet, but he knows that there's a reason he came here, and he's going to figure it out.

Then, he speaks.

"Hey, uh, God," he mumbles brokenly to the sky. "I know you know I'm not into the whole 'praying' or 'believing' thing, but..."

Dean breaks off and takes a deep breath. "But Cas believed. And he's not here right now, so somebody's gotta step up. Just..." He squeezes his good knee with one hand and stares up into the stars. "Take care of my baby for me, would ya? I know... I know Cas can probably do it by himself, but sometimes he needs a little help, and I can't be there for him anymore."

He presses the heel of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears that can't be held back anymore.

"I don't really know how to end this," he says with a small, sad laugh. "So, yeah, I guess that's it."

Very slowly, and with a lot of care, Dean stands up and goes back to his new truck. He climbs in and starts the engine, and Dean does what he does best.

He drives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are four more chapters, so hang in there!


	24. Twenty-Four

_**1964  
8 years later** _

Dean drove aimlessly for miles, until his truck ran out of gas and he ran out of money to fill his tank. He had decided at some point on his journey that when he reached that point, he would get out and find himself a job, because by then, he would be far enough away from his hometown that no one would be able to find him.

As it turned out, he ended up in Michigan and found a job in a Ford plant assembly line. It was monotonous work, but the constant rhythm drilled any and all thoughts out of his mind as he bolted together pieces of an engine. He got decent pay, and he worked long hours. It was, for all intents and purposes, good enough.

He still couldn't give up working on cars, however, and he worked part time in an auto shop in the weekend. Rufus, his boss, was a snarky black man who reminded Dean a lot of Bobby.

All the money he made was split 25/75. The 25% was saved for his own needs: the apartment he bought in Detroit, gas money, food, alcohol. The other 75 was split into thirds and sent without a return address to the Novak family, Bobby, and Sam. He hoped that they understood how sorry he was each month when they opened an envelope to find a stack of bills there as compensation.

But aside from that, the rest of his connections with his hometown were cut. Dean had fallen off the face of the earth as far as they were concerned, and that was just the way he wanted it. He hoped that the town was able to move on, that people would forget about him and that the anger felt by those that he abandoned would fade with time.

His leg healed nicely, and Dean cut the cast off himself at the auto shop.

Eight whole years pass by in this fashion.

Dean tried to move on from Cas, but he couldn't. For the first two years, he spent his free time in bars, drinking, smoking, and sleeping with random women. He tried something longer with a woman named Carmen, but it just didn't work out. No one meant as much to him as Cas did, and it felt _wrong_ , like he was betraying the spirit of the man he had killed.

So, he spent his time in bars smoking and drinking alcohol like it was the only thing keeping him alive, and he only picked up women when he was feeling truly desperate.

It was his favorite bar that, one day, the past caught up with him.

Dean was staring down at the whiskey in his glass, half-heartedly listening to the newest hit, Last Kiss, and hating himself, when he hears a familiar voice.

"Hey, brother."

His head flew up in surprise, and next to him sat Benny Lafitte in the flesh, looking just a little bit worse for wear.

"Goddamn. Never thought I'd see you here," he huffed, downing the last of his alcohol. It was the best reaction he could muster up at the time.

"Yeah, well. Life has a way 'a doin' that to ya." Benny flagged down the bartender and ordered something for himself.

"So what the hell are you doin' up here in Michigan?"

"Lookin' for work. Figured goin' north was my best bet."

"Huh." Dean nodded to himself, watching the bartender refill his glass.

"Mm."

"So what's it been like out there?" Dean couldn't help himself. He knew that the question could only provide him with pain and answers he didn't want, but curiosity got the best of him.

"What, out in Cali?" Benny asked, his brow furrowed. "Man, I left that place same night as you."

It was Dean's turn to furrow his brow. "Why?"

"Whole reason I was out there was the racin'. Seemed kinda pointless stickin' 'round."

Dean nodded as he absorbed the information. "So where'd you go?"

"Ah, I went out to Louisiana for a while. Back home. Got in some trouble, did some time. Came here lookin' for work." Benny swirled his drink. "Nothin' too excitin'."

"What'd you get busted for?"

"Me an' some buddies a' mine were stealin' some cars and goin' 'round sellin' 'em."

They both fell silent for a while, neither of them really sure of what the wanted to say. It had been four years since they'd seen each other last. There were things to catch up on, stories to tell, but neither of them could find the words to say.

"Look," Benny drawled, slow and careful, as he looked at Dean. "I'm in some real deep shit, brother. I ain't lookin' for a handout, but I got no place to stay, and I got nowhere to work."

Dean smirked. "You want my help."

"I'll help pay rent while I find somewhere else to stay. It'd only be temporary."

The Winchester pursed his lips, downed his drink, shrugged, and said, "Why the hell not?"

Benny moved in that same night, and the next day, he got a job at the same factory as Dean. It was an odd sort of friendship that they shared, but Dean welcomed the human contact that he had been deprived of for so long. He was content to come home each night, eat a meal with someone, and alternate sleeping on the couch or the bed.

He learned that Benny had figured out that he was not as straight as he let on, and that Benny didn't care.

And, after a few months, things started to happen between them. It was a spur of the moment decision that had Dean panting naked against the living room wall with lips swollen from hard kisses and bruises on his body from tight grips, but it continued whenever one of the men was frustrated or angry or upset or even simply in need of some form of physical contact.

They didn't talk about it the next morning, even when they woke up naked in bed together. It never progressed into emotional territory, because Dean wasn't ready for something like that again, and because Benny couldn't admit to himself that he was sleeping with a man.

And they didn't talk about Cas.

Benny tried, though.

It was a lazy fall afternoon that found Dean sitting on the couch with his feet up, smoking and cleaning one of the guns that he had bought when he moved in as Benny lazed on the floor watching TV.

"So, what happened that night?" the man asked. "I know it's all hush-hush, but I've been curious since it all went down."

"What happened what night?" Dean asked absently. He thought that Benny meant one of the nights they spent together.

"The night Cas-"

"Don't," Dean cut in. He tore his eyes from his weapon to glare at the other man.

Benny held his hands up in an act of surrender. "I meant no offense by it, brother. Just curious."

"Yeah, well. Don't be."

"Look, Dean." Benny turned himself to give Dean a meaningful look. "I know it was a rough time, but ya can't bottle that shit up. Ya been runnin' from it for years."

Dean held his glare. "If you ever mention Cas to me again, I will break your nose."

"Dean."

"I'm not kidding."

Hurt was spelled across Dean's features, and though Benny wanted to protest, he couldn't find it in himself to do so.

He never brought it up again.

Dean and Benny spent two and a half years living together when Benny moved out. He had met a nice girl, he said, and he wanted to get serious with her. He thanked Dean for helping him through his rough time, gave the man some money to cover his half of the rent for the rest of the month, and walked out the door with the few bags of things he owned.

Dean wanted to be broken up by it, but he couldn't find it in himself. It had been almost six years since the incident with Cas, and yet it still numbed him to any sort of feelings that weren't guilt, self-loathing, or just simple pain.

He still woke up some nights, sweating, as he relived the night. He would find a pillow in his arms, clutching tight to it like it was Cas and he was trying to staunch the bleeding.

He still opened his eyes some mornings expecting to find Cas waiting for him, already awake.

He still stopped sometimes in the middle of whatever it was that he was doing as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. Sometimes it was the fact that he was washing Cas's favorite mug, sometimes it was a song he heard that took him back to a night of cruising with the younger man.

He still couldn't listen to You Belong to Me.

He still kept one of Cas's sweaters, even though the smell of the man had long since faded, exchanged instead for that of Dean's new home.

It had been six years, but Dean couldn't get over Cas.

Benny moved back to Louisiana a few months later.

__________

It's a quiet day in October. Dean has the day off, since Rufus has the shop closed due to his wife's medical issues, and he doesn't quite know what to do with himself other than plop down in front of the TV and scan through the available channels when there's a knock on the door.

He sighs and throws his head back against the back of his couch. The knock comes again, so he grumbles, "I'm coming! Jesus."

He hauls himself up from the couch and throws the door of his apartment open.

What he sees takes his breath away and makes his jaw fall open. He can't believe his eyes, and yet, here he is.

Sam.

"Dean," the man breathes, taking the step forward to bring his older brother in for a hug.

They hold each other tight for what feels like a long time, clutching onto one another's t-shirts just to make sure that what they're seeing is real. It seems improbable; Dean has done a damn good job covering his tracks for all this time, and it seems odd that he would slip up now.

When they break apart, they're both grinning. "Damn, it's good to see you, Sammy," Dean says. Then, he seems to remember common courtesy, so he steps back and opens the door. "Come on in. You want a beer or anything?"

"Uh, sure," Sam agrees as he comes inside. Dean watches as he does so, mainly because it's just completely insane that his little brother is here in his apartment, looking around at the place he's called home for the past eight years.

Dean walks into the kitchen with Sam trailing behind slowly. He gets two beers out of the fridge and hands one to the man who's still looking around the room as he takes in the sights.

Sam looks... _different_. It's not a bad thing, but it's a little disorienting. Dean doesn't think that his brother has grown taller, but he's certainly bulked up, and his hair has grown so long that it brushes against the collar of his denim jacket. He looks a lot older. He's not the kid that Dean left behind any more. He's a man now.

The younger man nods his thanks, swings his backpack to the ground, and takes a seat in one of the chairs in the kitchen. Dean sits across the table from him, and they crack open their beers. Neither of them know where to start.

So, Dean chuckles sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck. "I guess I shoulda called, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam huffs in laughter. "Woulda been nice. I take it it was you who sent all that money, though."

"Um, yeah. I felt bad 'bout just ditchin' town. I wanted to make sure you guys got somethin', too."

Sam nods and takes a swig of his drink. Even after being apart for eight years, Sam still knows when to breach a subject and when to leave it alone.

"So you got a job?" he asks. Dean nods, so he continues. "Where at?"

"There's a Ford factory down the street. I help put together engines," Dean shrugs. "And I bring in a little money on the side at an auto shop."

"Pay good?"

"Good enough." The older man pauses. "What about you? You graduate and get your crazy law degree yet?"

Sam laughs. "Yeah, I just finished law school last year, and I got a job at a firm down in LA."

"Woah. Nice," his brother agrees with a grin. "What about you and Jess?"

Here, the younger man hesitates. "Yeah. Yeah, we got married the year after you left."

"Oh. Well, congratulations."

"Thanks." Sam gives one of his fleeting smiles and looks down at the table. "Woulda been nice to have you there."

Dean's tone softens right along with his heart. He grew up raising Sam, and one of his biggest regrets is not getting to see the man move forward with his life. "Yeah, I know."

Sam clears his throat and nods.

"So, you got kids? Start up a family yet?" Dean asks teasingly.

"Yeah. Yeah, we do," Sam grins. "We had a girl and a boy. Here, hold on."

The younger man digs around in his pockets and pulls out a wallet. When he opens it, he pulls out a picture, and he places it on the table so that Dean can see.

It's recent, and it depicts a girl no more than four who already has a head of blond curls just like Jess. The little girl is holding a massive baby with a goofy grin in her lap.

"That's Mary," Sam says as he points to the girl. "She's three and three quarters." In response to Dean's questioning look, he adds, "She likes to remind me."

"Oh," Dean nods understandingly, even though he hasn't been around a kid in years. "What about the boy?"

"That's Bobby. He's nine months."

Dean chuckles. "Bet Bobby got a kick outta that one."

"Actually, uh..." the younger Winchester clears his throat and retracts his picture. "Bobby's dead."

It feels like the wind has been punched out of Dean.

"Dead?" he echoes in a whisper. "What, uh, what happened?"

"Liver cancer."

"Damn," Dean mutters, running a hand over the eyes that are already prickling with tears. "Always knew the old bastard was gonna drink himself to death."

Sam gives the man a moment to regain himself, offering a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Then, he starts rifling through his little stack of photos.

"Here, I have one of me and Jess at the wedding, just a second."

The photo that he lays out next is older than the first one, but it's still in good condition, like it was handled with only the most careful of touches. It depicts Sam and Jess standing together, Sam behind Jess with his arms wrapped around her. He's got on a tux, and his hair is tamed, but Jess... she looks heavenly in her flowing, white dress. Her golden hair is half pulled back in soft curls. Dean wishes he could have seen it in real life.

"Damn," he comments. His voice is a little choked, so he doesn't add much more.

 

Sam smiles and puts the pictures back into his wallet. "Um... so, did you find anyone else?"

Dean hesitates, rolling the remainder of his beer around in its bottle and rubbing his face. "No," he shakes his head, "nothing long term."

"Oh." Sam pauses. Again, he recognizes that this is a touchy subject, so instead, he says, "You should come down and visit us sometime. After Bobby died, we moved just outside of LA, and uh..." Sam pauses, staring down at the leather he holds in his hands. "We've got a room ready for you if you wanna come down."

Even though the tears haven't quite left his eyes, Dean still grins like it's the only thing he knows how to do and says, "God, Sammy, that would be great."

"I miss you, Dean - _Jess_ misses you. And if I have to hear one more question from Mary about what her mysterious uncle is like..." He trails off and shakes his head endearingly.

"Yeah, no, I'd love to. I'd be freakin' delighted," Dean agrees vehemently. Now that Sam is here, things seem a lot easier. His worst fear hasn't come true: he hasn't alienated his family so completely that they don't want anything to do with him.

"I'd offer to come up here, but... not much room for a family of four," Sam shrugs as he looks around. "But, I gotta say, it doesn't even really look like you live here, man. Get some paintings on the walls or somethin'."

"I use it for sleep, Sam. Most of the time I'm workin'," Dean counters, taking another swig from his beer. His brow furrows as he comes across a new thought, and he puts the bottle down immediately. "How'd you find me anyway? I thought I was bein' pretty good about coverin' my tracks."

"It's kind of a weird story, actually," Sam says with a half-smile. "Jess wanted to take a trip down to New Orleans last month, and, of all people, we ran into Benny."

Dean's heart stutters at the name; his first thought is just how much Benny told Sam.

"He let it slip that he had spent some time up here working with you. And then it was just a matter of tracking down your address." Sam shrugs. "You're my big brother, Dean. I saw the chance to see you, and I took it."

Dean nods and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry I didn't call you or anything, Sam. It was... it was just hard. I didn't know if you hated me for what I did, or for leaving. I just... couldn't face it."

"Yeah, no, I completely get it," Sam says emphatically. "I almost didn't come, because I didn't want to bother you, but I figured eight years was kind of enough time to get over any hard feelings."

"Yeah."

A moment of tense silence passes before Sam, his voice lowered, asks the million dollar question, "So... why, exactly, did you leave?"

"I couldn't deal with it, Sammy. I couldn't handle the way people would see me afterward, with that... that _look_ in their eyes. I fucked up big time on so many levels, Sammy." Dean's voice has dropped to a whisper by now, and a tear has been freed from its prison. "It was too big for me to handle. I got home that night, and... I laid down in our bed, and I just..." He makes a grabbing motion at the sky. "I could smell him there, Sam. I couldn't face anyone after what I did to him."

Sam nods in understanding, his expression one of pain as well. He wants to help his brother, but words simply cannot undo something that has festered for eight years.

"You should have called, Dean," Sam says softly. "Or at least given us a return address."

"I know, but... I thought if anyone knew where I was, someone'd come for me, and all that shit would just get dredged up again." Dean pauses for breath, because it feels like his lungs are constricting by just talking about the matter again.

"Well... why - why would someone come for you, Dean? We were all just concerned. We wanted to make sure you were okay, and, and... to _help_ you. It wasn't something you had to deal with alone," his younger brother says earnestly. It can't help much now, but he just wants to make sure that Dean knows he was loved, even when he was away.

"You were there, Sammy," Dean whispers with eight years of torment shining through his voice. "You saw what happened."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"I freaking _killed him_ , Sammy. Tell me how you could have helped me with that?"

A conflict of emotions plays over Sam's face. First, there's realization, and it's followed by a short, incredulous huff of breath that's paired with a half- smile. "You don't know," he says softly, his tone one of utter disbelief.

Dean's brow furrows, and he looks at his brother like he's crazy. "Don't know what?" he demands.

And then, Sam lets out a short laugh.

"Dean," he begins, "Cas isn't dead."


	25. Twenty-Five

Dean stares at his brother for a long moment, eyes narrowed. "Uh, yeah," he protests. "You were there, Sam. You saw it. He... he had head trauma and, and we saw him _die_."

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam says, shaking his head vigorously. "You've got it all wrong, man."

"Okay, what the hell're you talking about?"

"Look, okay," the younger Winchester says. "Lemme start over. Cas... Cas did die. Technically. He was gone for seven minutes. He cut it close, man; if he had been gone any longer, they said his brain would have started to die."

"Wait," Dean cuts in. He leans forward on the table, rubbing at his forehead. This whole damn thing is giving him a headache. He spent eight years mourning Cas's death, when in reality, the man was alive? "So... so Cas... made it?"

"Yeah. I mean, he was in the hospital for about a year, but he lived."

"What happened?" Dean's voice is barely a whisper.

"He was in a coma for a real long time. Just over six months, I think. When he came to, he had a little bit of amnesia, and I think it was gone in a few days. But he had to go through a lot of physical therapy just to walk again."

"Wow." The older man shakes his head in disbelief. With a weak laugh, he says, "This is a lot to take in."

"You really didn't know he was alive?" Sam asks softly.

"No. No, I... Sammy, I left because I thought he was dead. If I would have known he was still alive, I would have stuck around a lot longer."

Sam nods as he looks at his brother with sympathy. Then, a thought dawns on him, and he's digging his wallet out of his pocket again. "I have some pictures, if you want to see 'em."

"God, Sammy, I'd love to," Dean agrees. He leans forward eagerly. It feels a little bit like he's gonna hurt himself worse just by looking at these pictures, but he can't find it in himself to care, because even the slightest millimeter that lies between him and the sight of Cas after all these years is unacceptable.

Dean is still having trouble swallowing this new information. Every ounce of guilt that he built this new life on has been unfounded. He could have stayed in his home, could have been there for Cas as he was in his coma, could have helped the man regain his memory or walk, could have taken Cas home for the first time in a year and watched as the man became reacquainted with everyday life.

And now, a new, heavier layer of guilt falls over him, because he missed all of those things and more. He missed eight years of Cas's life, eight years that they could have been together.

But he doesn't think about it any more when Sam hands Dean a few pictures. "Here."

Dean takes them gingerly, as though he's afraid that if he grasps too hard, they'll disappear.

"The first one is at our wedding," Sam says by way of explanation. "He was only out of the hospital a month."

It's a photo of Sam, Jess, Cas, and Bobby. Everyone is beaming with joy, though Cas's smile is a little bit dimmed. And the man certainly does look as though he spent the year in the hospital. Cas was never very bulky by any means, but he _was_ strong, and he did have muscle. But in this picture, almost none of that shows. He had dropped so much weight that he almost looked like a walking skeleton.

Still, he's the Cas that Dean knew. His short, wild hair was tamed, and he was wearing a suit as opposed to his usual attire, but goddammit, it's _Cas_.

Tears well up in Dean's eyes, but he blinks them back. Still, after all these years, he has a reputation to maintain.

Instead, he flips to the next picture.

This one shows Cas alone, waving to the camera with a half-smile on his face. He's surrounded by a few bags.

"He was out of the hospital a year then. It was when Cas moved," Sam interjects softly.

Dean looks up. "He moved? When? _Where_?"

"Yeah. He hitchhiked up to San Franciso in, oh, sometime in early in '58. He moved again a while after that, though. He's in New York now."

The older Winchester stares down at the picture again. Cas looks undoubtedly healthier than he did in the first picture, though there are some things about him that have changed. Cas's hair is longer in this one, and it's much messier, though that could just be the wind. He seems to have put on some muscle again, at least enough to make his journey a comfortable one.

"Hitchhiking, huh?" he asks with a soft huff of a laugh. He never would have thought Cas would be one to hitchhike.

"Yeah, he... when he was in the hospital, he read a lot. It was really one of the only things he _could_ do. He got really into the beat generation, and-"

"What that?" Dean asks, wrinkling his nose. He thinks he's heard the term before, but he can't be sure.

"It's, uh, the name for this group of writers. You remember hearing about that obscenity trial in '57? The one for that poem called Howl, 'cause it talked about sex and drugs and, um, homosexuality?"

Dean nods. It was big news for a while. There was one guy at the factory who would wax poetic about how this Ginsberg guy had given a credible name to modern poets, but Dean can't say he's ever read the thing himself.

"Yeah, it was authors like that. Y'know, Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs? Cas just... fell in love with Allen Ginsberg, and when he read On The Road for the first time, I guess he just got it in his head that he needed to travel to San Francisco."

San Francisco. Dean can see the appeal; not only would Cas's favorite writers have been there, but it also happened to be one of the few places in the country where two men could be together with fewer people giving a shit.

Dean likes the picture he holds. Cas holds himself with the prospect of adventure even though his eyes still speak of sadness. Even though it hurts Dean to imagine Cas with anyone else, he hopes that the man found what he was looking for.

After inscribing each detail of the picture to memory, he moves on to the final picture.

"That's a newer one," the younger Winchester says as he peeks over to see what Dean holds. "Cas sent that last summer."

The first thing Dean notices is that Cas is smiling. It's not a full-on grin, but still, his lips are turned up, and his eyes are crinkled. He's standing next to two other men, both of whom Dean doesn't recognize. The first man in question is bald on top, but the rest of his head is occupied by shoulder-length hair. A long beard and thick-rimmed glasses cover most of his face. The second has slicked-back hair and is far shorter than both of the other two, and he has a smirk on his face that lets Dean know he's probably up to no good.

But it's Cas his eyes return to. The man's hair is even longer and a little messy, like it's been windblown for a while. He looks happy. Healthy. 

"There's uh, there's a message on the back," Sam points out softly.

Dean flips the picture around, and, sure enough, there's Cas's messy handwriting.

_We finally met Ginsberg! One of the most interesting men I've ever been blessed to make acquaintances with. Wish you and Jess could have accompanied me._  
Best wishes,  
Cas 

"Huh," Dean smiles as he hands the pictures over to Sam once more. It's a sparse greeting, but he imagines that it came with a letter or something, somewhere that Cas could speak more openly. "Seems like you guys got close."

Sam shrugs as he puts away his photos. "Guess so. We were all kinda hurtin' after you left, so I it made sense for us to stick together."

It's just another bucket of guilt to pour over Dean's shoulders.

"What was it like?" he asks softly as Sam stuffs his wallet in his jeans once more.

"What? When you left?"

"Yeah."

Sam plops his hands in his lap and shrugs. "It was weird, Dean. You were this, this _presence_ in town. People came there _because of_ you. So when you left, it was just... it felt like something was missing. I know a lot of people took off after a while, looking for other stuff somewhere else." He just shrugs. "We all missed you, though. We all lost a friend. It just happened that I lost my brother, too."

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

"Hey, don't worry about it, Dean. We're here now."

Dean nods and tries to smile, but he can't find it within himself. Instead, he just asks, "What about Cas?"

Sam thinks back, and then, suddenly he gives a short laugh as he remembers something. "You know how we knew he got his memory back?" He looks over at Dean. "We came in to see him, and he was sittin' up in bed looking at us, and the first thing out of his mouth was, 'Where's Dean?' And then he looked down and saw all the casts and stuff, and he went, 'That _dumbass_ '."

"Really?" Despite how he feels, that pulls a laugh from Dean, even if it is quite sad in some ways. He takes the opportunity to wipe his eyes and nose while Sam looks down at the table as he gets ready to continue.

"Yeah," Sam smiles. "He, uh... well, we didn't really know what to tell him. We told him you two got in an accident, since he wasn't really sure how he ended up in the hospital. He just kept askin' if you were okay, and if he could see you again."

Any speck of light-heartedness flies out the window as the younger Winchester moves on with the story. Neither man looks at the other. Neither man can handle the pain on the other's face.

"When we told him that you left, he just pursed his lips and looked out the window. We... well, what do you really say about that? We already told him it wasn't his fault, but he had tears in his eyes, Dean, and the nurses who worked nights used to say that when they'd check on him, he cried almost every night for weeks when he thought no one was around.

"He never talked about you after that. Not to us, anyway."

Dean, for his own part, is crying. Hearing that crushes him. He thought he was doing the right thing when he left town, but now he can see that he was impulsive and hasty. Hindsight is always 20/20, but Dean just wishes that he had at least stayed for a while longer. If he had stuck around for Cas's funeral, he would have found that there was no reason to bury the man after all, and he could have spared Cas so much heartache. God, if he had only _called_. He might not have wanted to grovel back into town and beg for forgiveness, but hell, he'd have had been there for Cas, and he wouldn't have wasted eight years of his life.

"What was he like?" Dean whispers; if he uses his vocal chords, he knows his voice will crack. "I mean, what did he...?"

"He read a lot, like I said," the younger man reiterates. "We brought him new books every few days. After a while, though, he started writing."

"Hot damn. Did he really?" At this, Dean looks up with a smile on his face. Cas had expressed his desire to write throughout their relationship, but he had always been hesitant for fear that his work wouldn't be perfect. His motto, much like Sam's, fell along the lines of 'you do it and do it right, or you don't do it at all'.

"Yeah, man. He even has a few books published, and the critics think he's got somethin'."

Dean lets out a huff of a laugh, even through his tears, and he looks down at the table. "Well, I'll be damned." He scrubs at his eyes with the heel of his palm, making note to look up those books later. "Did he finish school? I was so worried that being in the hospital would ruin that for him..."

"Mhm. When he got out of the hospital, he ended up just staying with Jess and me, so I took him every day."

"But what about when he... when he left?"

"Yeah, he transferred his credits to a university in Frisco. We went up for his graduation."

Dean smiles to himself. It's a comfort to know that Cas could at least function, could continue on with a normal life even though Dean left his life in ruins and didn't stick around to get him back on his feet. And he's eternally grateful for his little brother, who, in so many ways, is the man Dean never could be.

"You should go see him."

Five words. Five simple words, and Dean's mind goes into a panicked overdrive. It's unthinkable for him, so he tries to compartmentalize and shove it into some dark corner.

"No."

"Dean," Sam states firmly, "you owe it to him to let him know you didn't just abandon him because you didn't love him."

"But what am I supposed to tell him?" the older man counters. His voice raises almost unconsciously, but this is a matter that puts him on the defense. It's like rubbing salt into an open wound. "That I left him for dead because I couldn't clean up my messes? Because, because I couldn't handle the way people would _look at me_?"

Sam looks at him like he's crazy, and he nods. "Well... yeah. That'd be a start."

"No. I can't do it. That's fucking crazy, and you know it." The older Winchester crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans back in his chair. He doesn't even give Sam the benefit of eye contact. It's the universal signal for shutting down, and he's letting Sam know straight-off that this is not something he wants to discuss.

"Why? Why is that so crazy, Dean?" Sam counters, just as loud. "You obviously still care for him, and it's not like you've got anything to lose here."

"Yeah? And what if he has someone else now? What if he moved on? Or, or if he hates me?"

"Because it'll give at least one of you peace of mind," the younger man exclaims. "He'll know the truth, and you'll know that he's happy. And then, if you want, you can come back here and live some miserable fucking life, _alone_ , because you just run away whenever something happens, and you never let anyone help!"

Dean is taken aback my Sam's proclamation. It's obviously a confession that he didn't plan to let loose, because the man looks guilty almost immediately and starts to retract his statement.

"Look, Sam, I get that you're pissed at me. Okay? You have a right to be" he says with a softer tone. "But I can't just show up at his doorstep. That, that's creepy, for one, and he'd probably slam the door in my face or something."

But Sam just goes right on looking at him. The man's expression morphs into something new, something that Dean hasn't seen since their youth.

"I know that look," Dean points out. "Somethin's stewin' in that brain of yours."

"I might have a thing or two planned out," Sam shrugs nonchalantly with a little smile curling onto his lips.

"Well, spill. Lemme hear it."

"Okay, so. You know how I told you Cas has books published, right?" Sam asks, alternating between shooting Dean meaningful looks and digging through his backpack.

"I remember."

"Well, get this: he's doing a book signing down in New York tomorrow." Sam's whole face just keeps brightening, like he's expecting a reaction.

But Dean doesn't get it. New York is at least a day's drive away, and besides. He doesn't own a copy of Cas's book, he doesn't know where the signing is, and he probably won't be able to get in if Cas is popular enough to even _have_ signings.

"So?" he shrugs.

"So, I just happen to have a wristband to get in, a copy of his book, and a plane ticket to New York that leaves later tonight."

Now, Dean understands why Sam is acting like a concentrated ball of sunshine. The younger man sets a hardcover book on the table, brand new. He slides it over to Dean, flips open the cover to reveal the ticket and wristband, and then closes it again.

"Sam," Dean sighs, shaking his head. "I can't fly."

"Yes you can."

"Sammy, those are giant hunks of metal that are somehow flyin' through a place where no giant hunk of metal should be," the older man protests seriously. "I'm sorry, but I've fucked with fate enough already, don't you think?"

"Oh, give it a rest, Dean," Sam groans, rolling his eyes. "I've flown plenty of times before, and I'm still here. You're just trying to find a way out of this."

"So let's say I do go - not that I'm saying I will! - but...if I did... what the hell would I even _start_ with?"

Sam shrugs. "You'll think of something."

"W-what?" Dean gapes. "Are you kidding me? You're not even gonna help me out on this?"

"I've done enough, haven't I?"

"Well, yeah, but come on," Dean groans. "And why can't I just drive there?"

"Because you'll have time to read Cas's book on the plane and make sure you're well-rested from not having to drive all night," Sam tells him.

"Oh, sure. You just want to make sure I can't back out halfway there."

The younger man smirks. "That, too."

"Yeah, but... I have to work tomorrow. Rufus needs me at the-"

"Bullshit," Sam cuts Dean off. "I already got you the week off work. Called Rufus myself and told him to make something up to keep you away. And I figured that I'd be up here in time to explain this so that your boss down at the Ford plant wouldn't have to be in on it, too."

"That..." he tilts his head in confusion, "that was you?"

Sam nods.

"Unbelievable," Dean groans, dropping his head on the table.

Sam reaches over and pats Dean sympathetically on the arm. "If it's any consolation, I think you'll really like the book."

"It's not."

The younger man chuckles, and Dean can hear the sound of a chair sliding back. He lifts his head just enough to see Sam standing up to sling on his backpack.

"You're leaving already?" he asks. He had been hoping Sam would stay longer, at least long enough to see him off to New York. _If_ he decided to go, that is.

"Yeah. I gotta be back in LA by Monday to meet with a client. And you only have until seven to catch your flight, so I thought I'd let you have a few hours to do your whole wallowing thing," the man says as though it's the most simple thing in the whole world. The words do sting, though; there's definitely some hostility between them that Dean needs to mend.

He stands up, too. Sam purses his lips and gives a sad smile before finally giving in and hugging his brother. It's another long one, as if they're trying to make up for lost time. It just feels so damn good to give his little brother a hug again after so long.

"Good seein' you, Sammy," Dean mumbles, his voice gruff with emotion.

"You, too, Dean." He pats his brother on the back once and pulls away. There are tears in both of their eyes, but neither of them will allow any to be shed until their meeting is over. "You'll come see us soon?"

"Yeah, definitely," Dean agrees with a heartfelt nod. He jams his hands in his pockets and looks down at the floor. "Guess I'm gonna have to get used to flyin', huh?"

Sam chuckles quietly. "Yeah. Guess so."

They stand there for a moment before Dean jumps up. "So, I'll see you out, then."

He leads Sam to the door and opens it for his brother. Sam heads out, but once he's in the hall, he turns around to Dean. He gives another tearful smile and gives a little salute that Dean reciprocates immediately. It was something they used to do all the time as kids, and it dredges up a lot of emotions in Dean.

And then, a moment later, Sam turns and heads down the hall. Dean watches him until he reaches the stairwell before he brings himself to close the door and retreat back into the kitchen. He just stops in the doorway when he gets there. He eyes the book on the table like it's a formidable enemy.

Deans is terrified. His heart thumps in tiny little flutters whenever he thinks about Cas. About how he's alive, and how he published books, and about how he's doing a signing, and about how Dean has the means to get there and see Cas again.

He wants to. Oh God, he really, _really_ wants to. Nothing would make him happier than to see Cas live, in person. He can get up, and he can meet Cas again face-to-face. He's wished with all of his heart for the past eight years that he could just have one chance to tell Cas how sorry he is, but never in his wildest dreams would he have thought it a legitimate possibility.

But at the same time, Dean dreads it. He doesn't want to go all the way to New York to find out that Cas hates him with every fiber of his being. Dean can't imagine anything worse than arriving only to have Cas kick him out.

Eight years. It's still so hard to wrap his head around. He lost eight fucking years of his life. Eight years that could have been spent with Cas, and they were wasted doing mindless labor in a self imposed solitary confinement. He doesn't know if he's pissed, depressed, or just plain baffled.

"Goddammit," he mutters to himself as he makes to grab a beer out of the fridge. However, he thinks better of it, and grabs some of the whiskey off of the shelf. This is a whiskey kind of problem. He pours himself a glass, and then he walks over to the table.

The book is there, like a villain waiting to be conquered. It's called Chained to a Comet, written in harsh but somehow refined script at the top of the cover. Dean drags his fingers over it. Below is a black and white picture of a man and the blurs of cars as they race past him. It strikes a familiar chord within Dean; he's seen this picture before. It's one that Cas took at one of his races so many years ago.

Did Cas write a book about _racing_?

But he will admit that it's nice to see the words 'Castiel Novak' printed at the bottom of the cover.

That's it for him. There's no question in his mind when he looks at nothing but that damn cover. It's as impulsive as his decision to leave California all those years ago, because if he thinks about it for any period of time, he'll back out, and he'll spend the rest of his days wallowing in the chances he never had. He's wasted eight years; he won't waste any more.

He practically runs off into his bedroom to hunt down his duffel bag.

He's going to New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm flying across the country on Monday, so there won't be any updates until next Thursday. I'm sorry for the inconvenience! But on the bright side, if you've never read any Ginsberg, you could check out some of his work!
> 
> I do want to thank all of you who have been reading, though. It means a lot to me, especially knowing that you guys are interested in the turnout!


	26. Twenty-Six

Dean hates flying. He's done it once before, when he was asked to go to a conference in California three years ago, and he spent the entire flight clenching the armrests and clenching his teeth as he attempted to think of something to distract himself.

This time, though, isn't quite so bad because he has Cas's book. Dean reads it up until he had to leave for the airport, and he reads it all the way to New York. Then, he hails a taxi to the hotel that Sam had reserved under his name and finishes it.

Cas writes beautifully. It isn't conventional by any means, and Cas's vast vocabulary plays a large part, but it all just flows with an intensity of emotion that Dean definitely felt. The paragraphs are like music to him, the way they flow.

Or, that could just be because he was a bit biased.

After he read the description on the back of the book, Dean had to sit down to read it as soon as possible, because it all sounded so familiar. And upon reading it, he finds that he knows the story.

He lived it.

The first line had Dean's heart pounding in his chest, because he recognizes himself. He's the character that Cas describes when he talks about the cocky, arrogant, captivating man that lived down the street. He remembers when he first met Cas, what a complete and total asshole he was, and Cas describes it in detail.

The first few pages bring tears to Dean's eyes again, because Cas wrote a goddamn book about them. He wrote a book about how they fell in love, and now it's climbing its way up the bestseller's list due to the fact that it's so-called controversial content is captivating teenagers and most of the gay community as well as the literary experts and even random people who want to see what all the hype is about.

Some details are changed, of course. Names had to be altered; Dean is named, of all things, Jensen Ackles while Cas picked the pseudonym Misha Collins. Sam is a medical student instead of a law student. Bobby is Dean's biological uncle in the story, and it all takes place in a different town than they actually lived in. But, all in all, anyone who was intimately involved with those depicted wouldn't know that it was actually a thinly-veiled non-fiction story.

It has Dean on the brink of either crying or screaming with anger as he reads it. He isn't really sure what emotion is causing him to want to simultaneously light himself and the book on fire. He experiences once again all of the things he and Cas did, all of the things they said, and it's dredging up thousands of memories that Dean has done his best to bury.

He gets a firsthand account of just how deeply Cas loved him, and how he blamed himself for Dean's leaving after the accident, even though he did harbor a lot of anger for the man, despite everything.

He learns how Cas spent his time in the hospital, how he woke up after months of being in a coma to find that he couldn't walk and that he didn't even remember his own name, and how the first thing he _did_ remember was Dean.

Cas ends it on the day he began his journey to San Francisco. It was, as he said, "another tale to tell, with other conflicts to conquer", and it leaves Dean insatiably curious about what happened after that.

As he lays awake in an unknown hotel bed in New York, Dean can't stop thinking about Castiel.

After reading the man's book, he thinks he has a little bit of a better grip on exactly what they were when they were together. He understands that what they felt for one another was pure and true, that it was reciprocated just as intensely from both sides. At the time, Dean had almost everything for granted. He pulled a lot of stupid shit, like showing up to wait for Cas every day after school or throwing rocks at the man's window so that they could just spend a few hours buried under some blankets or Cas moving in after such a short period of time. They were young and stupid, and it was beautiful. Dean sees that now.

And he also sees that he royally fucked up by leaving. He's glad he read the post-accident chapters in his hotel room, because he completely lost it. Cas has a talent for conveying emotions, pain not excluded, in his work. It almost seems as if he hand-picks every word with a purpose in mind, and Dean, knowing the man, doesn't doubt that he actually does.

Dean can't imagine what it would be like to wake up in the hospital and finally regain your memory, thinking that the man you loved was going to be there for you, that he had spent as much time as he could by your bedside, only to find that he didn't show. That he packed his bags and rode out of town the very night you got hurt. He can understand why Cas would think that he didn't care or that he was just looking for a way out of the consequences his actions would have. That he didn't love Cas enough to be there when he was really needed.

When Dean finally does sleep, it's restless at best, with sparse dreams about his hopes for the following morning.

__________

Dean will never in his life admit to how much time he spends trying to find the perfect outfit that morning. He had brought a few changes of clothes when he packed, since Sam got him the rest of the week off of work. He tries on every possible combination of outfits before he even looks outside, and when he does, he finds that it's raining.

"Dammit," he groans to himself before heading back to the drawing board.

He figures that, now, it doesn't really matter what he wears, as long as it's not going to leaving him soaking wet with a bad cold before he even gets to Cas. In the end, he goes for a flannel shirt laid over a black t-shirt, his jeans, and his motorcycle boots. Then, he pulls a sweatshirt over his head solely for the fact that it's the only thing he has with a hood, and covers it all with his leather jacket.

At ten in the morning, Dean heads out and finds a little coffee shop, where he sits and drinks until all the caffeine coursing through his veins finally prepares him to go out and get in line for the noon signing.

Dean hails a taxi and gives the driver the address that Sam had given him. He would really like to just walk there, but in this new city, he really doesn't want to chance getting lost.

He's dropped off at a mid-size independent bookstore at 11:34, and already, there are people lined up outside on the street waiting to get in.

"Son of a bitch," he whispers in awe. It still really hadn't occurred to him that Cas was actually this popular. It warms something inside him, because at least the man was able to find something good in the heaping pile of shit that life served him.

"Tell me about it," the man in the cab grumbles. "All these damn fairies keep showin' up and-"

Dean flips the driver off and throws a few bills in the man's lap. Normally, he'd fight any motherfucker that said something like that, but right now, he can't be bothered. Not when Cas is probably inside that goddamn bookstore right now, and there's less than a hundred yards between them.

He fumbles his wristband on as he walks over to the end of the line, and there he stays. As it nears the time that the doors open, more and more people show up, but Dean lets them cut in front of him each time. He wants to be last. He doesn't want there to be a huge line of people gawking at the both of them.

As it turns out, the final two people who end up in front of him are a couple. Dean just pulls his hood up over his head and minds his own business as he taps his feet and tries to ignore the little butterflies that are fluttering around in his stomach.

But then one of the men in front of him turns around. It's the skinnier one, and he says, "Hi."

Dean doesn't realize that they're talking to him at first, not until he lifts his head a little bit. "'Scuse me?"

"I just... you look lonely," the man says. He lets go of his partner's hand and turns to offer it to Dean. "I'm Barnes. This is Demian." Here, he motions to the larger man next to him.

"Dean," he introduces, offering his hand to the other man. Really, the last thing he wants to do is talk to someone right now, but at the same time, he doesn't want to be a dick to one of Cas's fans.

"So..." the skinner man - Barnes - begins with a smile on his face. "Exciting, huh?"

Dean raises his eyebrows and nods, jamming both hands into his jacket pocket. "Yeah," he agrees.

"I can't believe we finally get to meet Castiel Novak!" Demian exclaims with a huge smile on his face, like this is the best day of his life. "We've been such fans since his first novel, and they just keep getting better and better. Castiel is the only author I know of who's bold enough to write about the gay community like he does!"

"And I heard," Barnes adds in an almost conspiratorial tone, "that this new novel is actually a true story!"

"Wow," Dean says, sounding spectacularly unimpressed. "What made you think that?"

"The way he wrote, with such passion... you can't fake that," the larger man says with a self-assured nod.

"Plus, in some interviews, he's mentioned a hospital stay after a tragic accident as being the place he began to write. It only makes sense!"

"It would be great if it _was_ a true story!"

"How?" Dean finally cuts in. He's had enough of the two men. Their ignorance is almost a personal affront. "In what way would it be _great_ if it was real?" he demands. "Their lives are, are crap! Sure, they had it good for a while, but it all ended with a load of pure shit that got dropped on their shoulders. Their lives _suck_."

"Hey, buddy, take it easy," Demian says softly. Both men look taken aback by Dean's sudden exclamation of something containing more than two words. "It's just a book."

"Besides, Jensen and Misha... their lives _were_ pretty great," Barnes chimes in.

"Please. Enlighten me." Dean waves a hand in front of him in an almost sarcastic motion for them to continue.

"In real life, he sells used stereo equipment. I fix telephones. _Our_ lives suck," Demian tells Dean emphatically. "But Jensen and Misha? Jensen raced cars, he was someone that people _knew_. They woke up every day next to each other, and they were in love. And they had to hide their love, right up until the end, when they announced it in front of anybody. And, sure, maybe they didn't have a happy ending, but they _were_ happy. They loved each other more than most other couples you see in books, because their love was just... pure. Who knows, maybe one day, they could meet again and rekindle that spark." He trails off for a moment. His voice has dropped down almost to a whisper, as though this matter means a lot to him. "Well, who wouldn't want that?"

"Huh," Dean says. "Maybe you've got a point."

After that, their conversation peters out, and Dean is left to mull over the things that were said.

So maybe he and Cas didn't have that happy ending. So they were both left with broken hearts. Life is usually like that, and it would have ended painfully between them one way or another, be it through a break up or death.

But Dean did - does - love Cas more than he's ever loved anything in his life before. Cas took every single thing that Dean thought he knew about himself, and he twisted it almost completely around, and that was okay. Hell, it was better than okay. He still loves Cas, in more than just the way that first loves always hold a place in one's heart. He still longs for the way things used to be, would love nothing more than to build a time machine and go back.

And from the way Cas writes, his feelings for Dean still linger as well.

Maybe there's cause for hope. Maybe they'll meet, and they'll hit it off again.

By the time Dean forces himself to quit thinking those things, the line has moved almost all the way up to the door. Of course he clears his mind right before he's supposed to go in there. Now he's got nothing planned out to say to the guy.

There's a man at the door who checks for Dean's wristband. After that, he can walk freely into the bookstore, out of the cold rain and into the warmth. He shakes some of the droplets off his his coat and wipes his boots.

And when he looks up, he sees Cas, and it takes his breath away.

The man is sitting behind a table, all messy brown hair and bright blue eyes. He looks like he hasn't shaved yet today, but there's still that usual reserved joy on his face that he saves for the things he loves most.

And he looks _good_. He's still as handsome as usual, and he looks healthy. Cas is no longer the strong-but-small body Dean once held, is no longer the thin man in Sam's wedding photos. Even though he's wearing a sweater, he has the sleeves pushed up, and Dean can see toned forearms.

A stupid, happy grin breaks out on Dean's face, and he tries to quell it immediately. He feels like a giddy teenage girl on her first date, but he just can't help it. Excitement and anxiety are building up inside him at such a rapid pace that the only thing he can do is constantly fidget with his fingers and the sleeves of his jacket.

As he watches, fans step up one at a time and set books down on the table. Cas signs them, and, bless his heart, he even talks to each of them for a few minutes. He offers each person a heartfelt smile and a gentle handshake before they leave.

Time loses all meaning to Dean as he stands there. The ten minutes that pass are the longest and the shortest that he thinks he's ever felt. He both dreads and desires to be face to face with the man again. His heart is pounding in his chest so damn loud that he thinks the whole store can hear it, and soon Demian and Barnes are talking to Cas and a short British guy with brown hair and a face that somehow seems familiar to Dean is telling him, "You only get one item to sign. If you didn't bring something of your own, feel free to take a complimentary poster," in a bored tone of voice, because it's likely that he's rehearsed this speech hundreds of times before, and Dean's not listening to him, because, oh god, it's his turn to step up to the table, and he thinks he's going to pass out before he even gets there.

But then, he slides his book across the table.

He can see every detail of Cas's face. He can see thin little lines that weren't there before, can see strong shoulders under his sweater and soft, messy hair, and tired eyes.

And Cas doesn't look up at him, because he's trying to find a pen that works.

Cas pulls the book over, and says, "My apologies. What's your name?" in the voice that's as sinfully deep and gravelly as Dean remembers it being. It punches the air out of him just like it did the first time, and Cas doesn't even notice, because he's already signing 'Castiel Novak' in illegible, choppy script.

"Dean," he answers softly, because if he says it any louder he might just display some girl emotion that he'd rather not have the whole world see.

At that, Cas's lips quirk up. "I used to know someone named-"

And then, it dawns on Cas. The voice registers in his mind, and he drops his pen. His blue eyes are wide in disbelief when he looks up at Dean. They spend a long moment just staring at one another in shock. They can't believe that they're actually _here_ after so long. It's a moment that they've only been able to dream about, and they both have to make sure that they're actually conscious. Dean is grinning like an idiot and feels like crying, because jesus, it's so nice to see Castiel fucking Novak in the flesh, and Cas just leaves his jaw dropped, like his entire brain is focused on what the hell Dean is doing there right in front of him.

Cas stands up from his chair so fast that it actually tips over onto the floor. He looks both overjoyed and another emotion that Dean can't place at first.

He smiles through eyes prickling with tears and says, "Hey, Ca-"

Before he can finish, Cas cocks his fist back and sends it flying into Dean's face so hard that the man stumbles back a few steps. He's freaking bewildered. Of all the greetings, he certainly hadn't been expecting a punch to the face from a man who looks like he couldn't be happier. He touches his lip and finds it split, and he can't stop himself from looking up at Cas with his jaw hanging open. The man puffs up his chest once before letting it deflate into something less severe.

"Jesus, what was tha-"

Again, he's cut off, but this time, it's different. Cas flies out from behind the table, grabs Dean by two fistfuls of his jacket, and yanks him in for a hard kiss. It really isn't romantic, with their closed lips pressed tight together and Cas's stubble rubbing against Dean's shaved skin and the blood oozing from Dean's lip, but goddammit, it's so _perfect_. Dean hasn't been this happy for a long time, and something as simple as being punched in the face and kissed by the man he's pined after for eight years is enough to make him so damn happy that he could cry.

When they pull apart, Cas clenches his jaw to hold his emotions back and growls, "You are unbelievable."

And Dean can't help himself. There are tears in his eyes that threaten to spill over like they're breaking through a dam, but he can't stop the laugh that Cas's words rip from him.

He can't believe it. He's standing face-to-fucking-face with Cas. Cas is still gripping onto his jacket like he's afraid Dean will disappear again.

"Yeah, well. Kinda comes with the job description," he says lamely, but he's still smiling. "Eight years, huh?"

It's contagious. Cas lets out a huff of amusement event though tears fill his eyes, and he places both of his hands on Dean's face, tracing the lines and bones that were familiar to him all those years ago. "Dean..." he whispers before deciding that words aren't adequate enough to express just what it is that he wants to say. He pulls Dean forward and places an impossibly careful kiss on the man's forehead. Neither one of them wants to push their boundaries. To be honest, Dean isn't sure where they stand, because he knows that Cas likely still has some bitterness residing within him, but for now, it's just nice to bask in the fact that Cas is alive, that Cas is kissing him, that he's holding onto Cas's hips and that Cas is tangible being. He has to constantly remind himself, because otherwise it would all feel like a dream.

They just fit in together, and somehow, it seems like no time has passed while yet still managing to feel like it's been centuries since they last held one another.

They only break apart when the sound of applause catches their attention. As it turns out, they've gathered quite the audience. Demian and Barnes are there, alternating between looks of joy and shock. The British guy is leaning up against a support beam, a smug look on his face. And that's not even mentioning the random patrons of the store, some who were there for the signing and lingered after and some who simply came to shop for books. Dean is glad that this seems to be a more accepting place, or else he'd be worried for their safety.

Cas's cheeks begin to flush red, and he immediately lets go of Dean and takes a step back. He's still within arms reach, but now things aren't so obvious.

"Well, well, well," the British man croons, almost sarcastically. He saunters over, hands in his pockets and doing a damn good job of looking intimidating despite the fact that he's far shorter than either Dean or Cas. "If it isn't Dean Winchester."

"Wait," Demian interrupts from his place a few paces away, looking at Dean, "Are you Jensen?" And then, turned to Cas, "Are you _Misha_?"

"One could infer that, yes," Cas mutters quietly, barely audible.

Both of the fans' jaws drop open. "So you..." Barnes splutters as he gestures at Dean, "You _knew_? When we talked to you?"

"Yeah," Dean responds with a terse nod.

And it's the short man who waves the two men away dismissively. "Let's have some privacy, shall we? No more gawking at the pretty boys."

It seems to dawn on several of the people who have gathered around to stare that they're being a bit rude, despite the fact that Dean and Cas are standing in the middle of a busy store. But, they go back to at least hiding their spying behind bookshelves.

"So," the British man drawls slowly, reverting his condescending gaze back to Dean, "the infamous Dean Winchester, making his dramatic return after eight years. What brought you back? Not satisfied enough with how you left Cas the first time around?"

Dean demands, "Uh, who the hell are you?" at the same time as Cas states, "Crowley, enough."

"You don't know? Oh, right, you don't, because you never bothered to call Cas back after you decided you'd used him up," Crowley says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. In response to Dean's still questioning look, he states, a bit louder, "I'm Crowley. The best thing to happen to sweep him off his feet five years ago. Nice to meet you."

Dean furrows his brow, looking between Cas and Crowley. So Cas did move on after all? Then why did he kiss Dean in front of his new boyfriend?

"Crowley, stop," the younger man growls with the wrath of heaven shining in his eyes. It kind of scares Dean just by being in the same room as him; he wouldn't want to be the object of that fury.

The man in question holds up his hands in resignation, but he still has that smile on his face, the one that says he's going to milk every little bit of annoyance out of Dean that he can.

"Fair enough," Crowley shrugs. "Have fun with him while it lasts, Cas. You know what happened last time. Until then, I'll be at the hotel."

And then, Crowley is gone. Dean hardly registers his leaving because it all happens so fast, but he certainly isn't complaining that he's gone.

"Who the hell was that?" he asks Cas, his brown furrowed in confusion.

"I'll tell you over dinner." Cas doesn't bat an eyelash as he says it. Instead, he just reaches over and grabs his backpack from underneath the table, slides on the gaudy freakin' trenchcoat that he still wears despite his new, more laid back attire, and he turns to Dean, who's still gaping like a fish out of water at the concept of dinner.

"Uh, um, yeah. Sure. Let's go," he finally fumbles out with a shrug, and then he mentally punches himself for being so dumb. He's trying to make a good impression, and yet he can't find it in himself to be cool about it.

"Great," Cas says as he heads toward the door, leaving Dean no choice but to follow. "There's a restaurant just down the road that I think you'll enjoy. We can talk there."

And goddammit, Dean is dreading that conversation, but right now, he's willing to make more sacrifices than just that. If Cas asked him to skydive right now, if he said that would mend things, Dean would do it, no questions asked.

He follows Cas into the rain eagerly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter!


	27. Twenty-Seven

"I'm still upset with you," Castiel informs Dean as soon as they sit down. "Actually, I believe that would be an understatement."

"Yeah, well. Don't blame you."

"I'm sorry about your lip, by the way."

"It's skin. It'll heal."

Cas has shown Dean to his favorite coffee shop after finding that the restaurant he wanted to go to was closed on Sundays. It's a quaint, hole-in-the-wall place with a surprisingly comforting atmosphere. It doesn't look like much, but Cas swears by their coffee, so Dean isn't going to complain.

Hell, Cas could take him skydiving right now and Dean wouldn't utter one word of dissent.

They order their coffees, and Dean is surprised to find that, now, they both take it black.

"You never used to take it black before," Dean points out when the waiter walks away.

"Hmm. Things change," Cas hums softly, looking out the window. The rain still pours, and the man just looks so pensive, like he's harboring a deep sadness within him that comes out when the weather turns gray.

"Yeah, um... would you mind filling me in?" Dean asks, trying his best to sound like he's not being demanding. "Actually, y'know what? Hold off on that for a minute. Cas, I owe you the world's biggest freakin' apology. It was selfish of me to leave, and I'm gonna admit that straight off. I fucked up. Out of all the crap that's happened in my life, that's the one damn thing I'd change. I... I left because I was worried about what people would think of me. How they'd look at me. I saw you _die_ for Christ's sake, and I thought it was it." Dean rubs his face and shakes his head. "I should have just stuck around."

"You saw-" Just as Cas makes to speak, the chipper waiter sets their coffees down on the table for them.

"Here you are! Two black coffees!" he exclaims with a bright grin. "And, um, refills are on the house, Mr. Novak."

Cas gives him a soft smile. "Thank you, Samandriel."

Dean waits until the waiter walks away when he asks, "Samandriel?"

"He's something of a protégé of mine," Cas explains.

"Well, I see he got the whole crazy name memo," Dean mutters as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"It appears that naming children after obscure angels is far more common than one would think," he says softly, taking a drink. Then, he clears his throat. "Anyway, as I was saying. You saw me die?"

"Yeah, I... Sam came and checked me out of the hospital, and when we were leaving..." Dean shivers at the memory. It still seems so fresh in his mind, but, then again, he's seen it in his dreams almost every night. "They said they lost you, Cas. I didn't stick around. There, uh... there wasn't anything left for me there with you gone."

Castiel falls silent for a moment and returns to staring out the window for a while with a brow furrowed in concentration. Every few moments, he'll sip at his drink. Dean keeps his eyes on the man, even though it's probably making Cas feel uncomfortable. He just can't get over _Cas_. He's adding to the mental picture of the man that he's kept in his head all these years. He draws in the fine lines, the wild hair, the dark jeans and loose long sleeve sweater, the stubble that looks as though it makes frequent appearances. It seems so different than the man who only dressed down per Dean's request, who cared about how he looked. That's not to say that this 'new' Cas isn't a good one, though. Dean's finding that, despite the years of hurt, he still loves the man with all of his pathetic little heart.

"That certainly puts a few things into perspective," Cas murmurs softly.

"What things?"

"Well, the reason why you left." Cas turns his piercing gaze to Dean again, and the man forgot just how naked it makes him feel, like his whole soul is bared. "You never told anyone why you disappeared. Sam didn't even know. I simply inferred that you had yet learned how to act responsibly when dealing with the consequences of a tragedy."

"Cas, if I'd have known-"

"-then you would have stayed. I understand. I don't forgive you for leaving without even calling your own brother, but I do understand."

Dean nods and looks down at the table, because, even though he'd been expecting it, the words still sting. He wants things to be like they were way back then, when he and Cas were close to careless. Dean knows he fucked up, and he doesn't even know why Cas is taking time out of his day to humor him now.

"I suppose you'd like to hear what I've done these past eight years?" Cas inquires as he sets his cup down. He almost sounds a little tired, a little callous.

"Yeah, um. Yeah."

Cas takes a deep breath and nods. "I believe the worst thing about the accident was waking up to find that you were gone. I waited for you to come back for months, Dean. It took a very long time for me to accept that you weren't going to return. Reading and writing became a crutch for me then. It let me live in a world where I didn't have to think about you.

"Things were very difficult at first. I wasn't quite sure how to function without you. The simplest tasks felt harder. When Sam brought me home, I couldn't face it, and I simply moved in with the two of them until I could get back on my feet."

Cas pauses, studying the grain of wood in the table as Dean watches him.

"Your brother is a great person, Dean. I can't express enough gratitude for what he did for me. I'm not sure I would have been able to cope anywhere else. There was a period where I could do nothing more than lie in bed and stare at the wall, and those two showed me more kindness than I thought humanly possible."

"Yeah, Sammy's a great kid," Dean whispers, mainly to show that he's listening. It causes Cas to lift his head again, to lock eyes with Dean as he continues to speak.

"I couldn't leave the house often, because when I did, I was threatened for being a 'faggot'. Dean, we were supposed to weather that storm together, and I had to cope alone. Do you understand what that was like?" Cas asks him intently. The deep-rooted anger tints his voice with a ferocity that hadn't presented itself before.

"No," Dean mumbles, feeling like a complete and utter asshole. He got to see the best sides of everyone, because everyone loved him. They weren't going to fuck with Dean Winchester, and they wouldn't fuck with anyone close to him, either. But if he was gone...

"It hurt, Dean. It hurt when I woke up in that hospital alone to find that you abandoned me. It hurt when the people I considered my friends spit on me as I walked down the street. I lost count of how many times I was attacked, called names, or harassed, Dean. Sam and Jess were sympathetic, but the fact of the matter was that you weren't there, and I found that people simply didn't care for me much when I wasn't by your side.

"Even my own family, Dean. Michael and Zachariah wouldn't allow me to set foot in their home, and they cut off all contact that I could have with Anna, Gabriel, and Lucius."

Cas pauses here, takes a drink. He doesn't let Dean come to terms with what he just said before he continues again. "I almost considered allowing myself to die. It could be easy, if I walked out in the street at the wrong time of night and didn't fight back. But instead, I took refuge in the stories of the beats. It gave me hope that there were places where people like me could be accepted without comment. And when I was healthy enough, I hitchhiked to San Francisco.

"The first person I met there was Crowley. He was... well, there isn't a particular word to describe Crowley. He was the first person to show me attention that wasn't familial or negative. He was the one who helped me understand that I didn't have to continue living in the emptiness of someone who wasn't there."

Cas takes a deep breath in through his nose and then takes another drink. His gaze is trained outside once more. It's one thing that Dean finds a little unsettling, the fact that Cas won't look at him like he used to. Hell, eight years ago, Cas rarely had a conversation where he wasn't peering into Dean's very essence, even if it was about needing to take out the trash. And now, Cas rarely does it.

He wonders if it's just the fact that it's him, that he left and now Cas can't look at him the same way, or if it has something to do with the way people alway seem to cut Cas down when he's at his best.

"So, Crowley?" Dean asks softly. "He's still... with you?"

Cas smiles, and it's humorless. "Something like that, yes." He pushes his coffee off to the side. "We never had a conventional relationship by any means. In the beginning... we did try. I simply wasn't ready for it, and he certainly isn't the type of person that I'd want to spend more time than necessary with."

"It seems like you two are close, though. He's here now, after all," the older man points out, and goddammit, he can't keep the jealousy out of his voice.

"Yes, well. We do live together. It's more of a... 'friends with benefits', if you will." God help the poor bastard; he actually used air quotes. "I suppose we've grown fond of each other in a rather begrudging way. It's... complicated."

Their conversation halts as Samandriel returns to refill their coffee. The kid seems to understand that something serious is going on, so he offers nothing more than a smile and a simple nod to Cas before he's off.

Dean can't help but watch as Cas swallows down more coffee, and he wonders when the man became so attached to the drink. It seems like it became a usual thing for him in all those years of Dean's absence.

Finally, the younger man asks, "What about you, Dean? Did you find someone?"

"No. Um... well... how about you tell me your story and then I'll tell you mine, huh?" Best postpone that story until the last possible moment.

Cas eyes him with careful scrutiny, but he does nod in agreement. "Very well," he says. "So I left off with Crowley."

"And you're still in San Francisco," Dean adds.

"Mmm, yes. Well, we stayed there for quite some time, and I found that Crowley's friends had no interest in me aside from getting me into trouble, so I decided it was time to move here, to New York. Crowley just happened to be enamored enough to follow.

"The rest isn't particularly interesting," Cas says with a shrug, still not meeting Dean's gaze. "I picked up writing seriously somewhere along the way, and people tell me that I'm controversial, but it seems as though some do like me.

"Well," the younger man says with a shrug, "it's your turn, is it not?"

Dean has a thousand questions that he wants to ask. He wants to know, in detail, everything that happened to Cas. He wants to experience it like he was there, right next to Cas. But he doesn't, not yet, because now isn't the time to pry. He's heard what Cas is willing to divulge, and he won't push the man any farther.

Instead, he offers up his own account of what happened these past eight years. While Cas's story touched briefly on many things, Dean's is simply uninteresting. Not much has happened to him. He's done nothing more than work for the past few years, and the only break from that routine was Benny, and Dean tells Cas about that, too. They share a laugh over the man's uncanny appearance in Dean's life once again, though Cas sobers up quite a bit when the nature of Benny's relationship with Dean becomes clearer. He's not sure if he imagines the look of envy that sparks and is quelled quickly in Cas's eye.

And, once Dean is finished, they both sit there, unwilling to look at one another. Tension sits heavily in the air. What, exactly, is one supposed to say after eight years? How, exactly, is one supposed to breach all the subjects that they're no longer entitled to have any knowledge about? How, exactly, do they delve into those emotions that they've buried so deep inside themselves, that they never actually expected to unearth again?

It's hard to even look at Cas when he's not listening to the man talk, because it just feels like it's something he shouldn't do. He doesn't know if Cas wants him watching. Sure, they've already kissed, but Dean knows that the man was just overwhelmed.

He clears his throat and breaches the subject anyway. "So," he says, then clears his throat again. "Where, uh... is everything..." Frustrated, he rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head. "I guess what I'm trying to ask here is, where do we stand?"

He can feel Cas's eyes burning into him, and he can't resist the temptation to look. He's expecting anger, sadness, amusement, _something_ that isn't the conflict playing out across the man's features. He looks like he's being ripped apart at the very seams and the flood of emotions he's been holding back is threatening to pour through. And that's another new thing; he seems to be so much more in touch with those emotions. Previously, Cas had simply always dealt with feelings with a sense of detachment. Must be a writer thing.

"Dean..." he whispers, and it's such a broken sound that Dean just doesn't know what to do with it. He doesn't know which hurt it stems from, but whatever it is, he caused it, and he was stupid to think that Cas would actually want to be around him for more than one afternoon after he shows up for the first time in eight years.

"Actually, y'know what? Forget I said anything, that was stupid," Dean mutters to himself. He pulls a few bills out of his pocket and dumps them on the table, grabs his jacket, and slides out of the booth in one fluid motion. "It was good seein' you, Cas. I hope the writing thing pans out." The only thing running through his mind is that he probably just fucked Cas's life up even more than he had already done before. Who gave him the right to show up here and just-

But before he move more than one step away from the table, he feels a grip on his arm. His eyes go wide, and he looks down to see Cas staring pleadingly up at him.

"Please," he whispers softly as he lets go of Dean's arm, "stay."

"Okay," Dean agrees almost automatically. He had been hoping for that response, even if he'd also kind of expected Cas to let him go just because throwing temper tauntrums at 31 is spectacularly uncool. He throws his jacket back into the corner of the booth and sits down, eyes on Cas the whole time.

"I don't... words cannot define where we stand, Dean," Cas mumurs softly. "I'm angry at you, and every part of my body rages at you for what you did. A part of me still wants to hate you, and I suppose some of me still does, but you're here, and that means you had enough sense to come find me.

"I can't blame you for thinking I was dead, but I can blame you for shutting everyone out of your life, because one phone call would have been enough to have avoided this.

"But..." Cas says softly, his eyes flickering down to the table, "I prayed for you to come back until I lost faith in God. Then, I simply hoped you would turn up again, and things could go back to normal."

It breaks Dean's heart that Cas lost faith in God because of him, but he still musters up enough gumption to whisper, "I guess it's a little too late for things to go back to normal, huh?"

Cas smiles sadly. "Eight years is a long time."

Dean lets out a humorless huff of a laugh and nods his head in bitter disappointment. He knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"Stop beating yourself up, Dean." Cas reaches over and places his hand atop Dean's, surprising the both of them. They've craved physical contact with one another for so long that neither of them can do much about it. "Eight years is a long time, and we've both changed. I used to know you like the back of my hand, and I'm sure now there are things that I would be surprised to discover. That goes both ways.

"But, Dean, I've always belonged to you." Cas's lips quirk up at the corners, and Dean understands what he means immediately, because he's quoting the song that Dean has never been able to listen to again but has heard thousands of times over in his mind.

"Cas..." He's smiling now; he can't help it, even if he subdues it to the tiniest one he can manage.

"I would like to try again, Dean. Neither of us are emotionally stable, I should say, and it wouldn't be healthy to pursue something intense so soon. And we didn't exactly have a conventional relationship before," the younger man says. He's starting to ramble a bit, and Dean can tell that he's nervous, so he squeezes Cas's hand.

"That sounds great, Cas." He's grinning like mad now. Out of all the possible scenarios, this is the one that he hadn't allowed himself to dream about. He prepared for anger, for grief, for everything. He simply wasn't expecting the man to decide that this could be fixed. Still, it almost seems to good to be real. He's still waiting for the moment when Cas will laugh and say it's all been a joke, and then he'll leave and never need to see Dean again. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, Dean," Cas tells him emphatically. "You're flawed, but you're one of the most devoted and beautiful people that I've met in my life. I thought I lost you once, and I never wish to experience that again."

"Okay," Dean whispers, nodding. He's wondering when he'll wake up, when the earth quakes and sucks him into a black hole and he realizes that this is just a dream. But as he sits there and gapes at Cas, nothing changes. The world sits, still and peaceful. And it's then that he thinks of one catch. "What about Crowley?"

"He knows who you are, Dean. I'm sure he'll be difficult, but he's seeing someone else at the moment. I'm sure he'll find a way to recover."

"Wow." He says it because it's all so hard to comprehend. Two days has not been enough time to digest this information, and it feels like he's going to perpetually walk around with a head that's ready to go into an overload.

And Cas tilts his head just a little bit in confusion. Just like he always did. And it brings a twinge to Dean's heart to see that some things never change.

"Dean, please. Good things do happen." Cas says it slowly with that intense stare that Dean remembers. And, faintly, he remembers hearing those same words from Cas's mouth before.

"Yeah, well. I have a habit of fucking them up."

Cas just glares at him with enough intensity that Dean feels so guilty he looks away. That one look lets the man know that what he said isn't going to fly, but, right now, there's not much Cas can say about it, because neither of them have a right to ask for things just yet.

And Dean feels bad enough about it that he says, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, Dean," Cas says quietly, controlled. "Realize that there are ways for you to stop, as you so eloquently put it, 'fucking things up'."

They're silent for a long while. Eventually, both of their gazes fall to the hand that Cas is resting atop Dean's, the one that neither one of them is ready to move.

Cas is giving him a chance that he doesn't deserve. Dean _left_. He walked out on Cas when the man needed him most, and there are no excuses for what he did. But, for some reason, Cas is stupid enough to have reserved a place in his heart for Dean in the odd chance that the man might turn up again. Even after eight years, Cas held onto that hope.

Dean can't imagine what it was like. At least he had some sort of closure, even if he thought Cas was dead. But all Cas knew was that Dean drove off into the sunset and just never came back. He didn't know why. He didn't know if he'd ever see Dean again. And yet, he found a sliver of hope and weaved it into something tangible, something that he could grab onto and wrap around himself every time he felt lost.

It's amazing, the human heart. It can be broken, bruised, and battered, it can be torn up until it's completely unrecognizable. And yet, it will actively search out any crumb of hope and cling to it as it whispers, "maybe, just maybe".

Dean begins to understand that Cas is leaving the outcome of this conversation up to him. Cas himself has already stated that he's ready for this to progress in his own roundabout way, even if it does so slowly. He wants to see how Dean will react, if he's changed at all in the time that's passed.

He wants to go slow, to take this one step at a time in an environment more conducive to their relationship than the former one. Cas is willing to fall in love with Dean again, slowly and surely, to discover all the aspects of the both of them that they hadn't had the chance to before. They had been closer than most siblings when they lived together, but they missed something crucial when they skipped the dating step and went right to living together. They didn't have the slow build of anticipation that comes from having dinner every weekend and watching it move to dinner every night of the week. They didn't have the luxury, really, because the small town atmosphere didn't quite allow it. It was something that Dean had always wished he could have changed while he was still with Cas; just that one small detail.

And Dean will be damned if he doesn't try this again - doesn't try this _right_. He's going to earn Cas's trust and prove that he's worth letting into Cas's heart again. He's gonna take Cas out on dates and talk about the pets they had in the third grade and the shitty teacher who taught English in ninth and all the things that interest them, no matter how insignificant those things seem, and he's gonna let the whole world know that they're together, and damn the consequences, whatever they may be. He'll take on the whole fucking world if he has to, just for this one chance at redeeming what it is that he's lost.

"Cas," he begins slowly. The man in question looks up at him, and Dean clears his throat, makes a point of looking at Cas. "I'd like to take you out to dinner tomorrow night. If, um, if you want?"

Something softens the lines of Cas's face, and a little something special twinkles in his eyes, and the sun doesn't need to be shining for them to look so ungodly blue. Dean hasn't seen something so genuinely beautiful since the night they danced together. And, if he does this right, he'll get to see this over and over again.

"I would like that, Dean," Cas agrees softly, with his familiar almost-smile. "I would like that very much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Thank you to everyone who read, commented, bookmarked, or subscribed! It means a lot to know that you guys enjoyed this, and that some of you even stuck by since the beginning. I had actually intended on ending this right after Cas died for real, but I didn't want to do that to you all.
> 
> Thank you all again, from the bottom of my heart <3


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